


Feathers Scarlet

by HappilyNervousCollection



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wings, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Medical Trauma, Mutilation, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Survivor Guilt, no shipping just pain, respawning is a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 25,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26530879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappilyNervousCollection/pseuds/HappilyNervousCollection
Summary: Tommy is forced into a trade with Dream during the battle for L’manburgh’s independence. The loss is more than he anticipated.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 146
Kudos: 1359





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Slight spoilers! BUT!! This fic was heavily inspired by this wonderful art, https://www.instagram.com/p/CFP95Iwl-Uj/?igshid=qb4xkd2g6dur, produced by the lovely koji_the_dino on Instagram! Their art is fantastic, and I would highly recommend checking them out!

It’s only now that Tommy admits that this may have been a bad idea. It’s only once he’s been forced to kneel before the green bastard, that damned painted smile staring at him, a sword held to his throat. He’s already been cut by the fucking thing, warm blood trickles down his neck from his attempted squirming and yelling, his arms pulled back behind him in a way that threatens to dislocate them if he struggles too much.

His wings did little in his attempted escape, the grip on his arms easily pulling him down, a knee on his back knocking him to the grass. They flick and twitch as he’s restrained, puffed up as if it would make him look any more intimidating as he stares into useless eyes, glaring. 

With Eret’s betrayal not but a few days prior, Tommy knew they needed some sort of leverage. Wilbur had opposed, saying that if anything, the battle was now even, considering the powerful flight tactics Wilbur and Tommy could bring to the table. But Tommy didn’t want an equal fight. He wanted high ground, he wanted to win, and leave no chance for Dream and his group to have a comeback.   
  
So, he’d snuck out during the night, when he was sure that neither Wilbur nor Dream would be awake, in an attempt to spy on them, and perhaps take a few of their items for the good of L’manburgh. He hadn’t even made it that far before his arms had been pulled from either side, landing him in this situation. 

Even with the mask, which is much more creepy in the low light, he realizes, Tommy can sense Dream’s amusement. It’s fucking _palpable,_ really, and it only worsens when Dream actually speaks. “Tommy,” He starts, taking a small step closer, forcing Tommy to crane his neck if he wants to maintain eye contact. And Tommy isn’t going to be the one to show the first sign of weakness. Even given his current position. So he does, biting his cheek as the sword slices a little more, deepening the cut.   
  
He can practically see Dream’s grin behind the mask. 

“It’s a nice night for a walk, isn’t it?” He muses, and Tommy spits at his feet, eyebrows furrowing.   
  
“It would have been, if I didn’t have to see your stupid face.” He retorts, and he’s met with blank neutrality. It’s almost sharp, considering the dark amusement that had been coming off Dream in waves, but Tommy knows well enough how unlikely it is he’s actually phased the man.

“Would you care to tell me what you were doing?” Dream asks, and his voice is sharper, though not necessarily annoyed. Just more formal. It’s enough that Tommy doesn’t answer- a thing he quickly convinces himself is out of spite rather than nerves. Dream gives him a minute or so, longer than is truly necessary, and it makes the air more tense between them. Tommy keeps his eye contact. 

“I have a proposition for you, Tommy.” Dream says, though nothing in his voice is kind. Tommy instinctively squirms a bit more in his hold, but it only causes his arms to be pulled tighter. “We originally planned a night attack, to kill you and your friends. To take your resources and burn your land. But,” He takes another step closer, and Tommy can’t crane his neck any more, so instead he looks up as best he can. “If you take my offer, I won’t do any of that.”

Theres another brief pause, likely Dream giving Tommy time to think it over. And, to be honest, he does. If they didn’t have their resources, they’d be basically defenseless against them. L’manburgh has already been attacked again and again, each instance causing them to focus on reconstruction instead of battle. And while death was rarely a permanent thing, Tommy knew from experience that it could hurt like hell.   
  
“What’s your offer, Dream?” He asks, and through the dark blur of his strained vision, he thinks he can see a smirk from underneath the mask. The hands preemptively tighten on his arms, though he shudders now at the feeling of hands on his wings, the appendages flicking and beating against the touch.   
  
“Your wings, Tommy.” Dream answers, and again, on instinct, he struggles, his wings beating harder against his captors. They clearly aren’t too pleased with his reaction- the hands tug and pull and grip tightly, until they too are pulled into an awkward state of immobility. “Your wings for L’manburgh’s temporary safety.” Dream continues, once Tommy has been rendered truly immobile. “Otherwise, I don’t mind continuing with what we had planned.”

”Well I can’t just take them off-“ Tommy protests, his voice a bit incredulous, a touch panic stricken. He stops though, once he sees Dream’s hand reach for the netherite axe he has at his side, gripping the handle idly. His voice catches in his throat and he sucks in a quick breath, eyes practically glued to the weapon. 

“But we can.”

Tommy’s first answer is an immediate _no,_ but Dream gives him time. And, unfortunately, as time goes on, Tommy doesn’t really see much of a choice. He knows they’ll kill him if he refuses, and then simply go on to kill Fundy, Wilbur, and Tubbo. It will set them back by a significant amount, and after the ground they’d lost before, they couldn’t afford something like that. Besides, Tommy thinks, he’ll likely die from the blood loss anyways. He’ll just respawn. 

One loss, in the grand scheme of things, was much less significant than the loss of everything. Even if that one loss was most personal to him. 

He’s scared to even agree, the words caught in his throat and unable to find their way out. His chest is tight and his palms break out in a cold sweat, but he doesn’t attempt to struggle, doesn’t attempt to break free. And, after a considerable amount of time, Tommy hangs his head. “Fine.” He murmurs, and he wants to curse himself for how pathetic he sounds- he was doing something good. He was doing something right for L’manburgh. For his _friends._

The next few moments are a bit of a blur. 

His arms are dropped, but he makes no move to retaliate. His wings are pulled out and back as he forces himself to relax, forces them not to struggle or beat or twitch. The grip on them is tight and unyielding, causing a slight strain on his shoulder blades. Tommy shuts his eyes tight preemptively, so when Dream’s hand runs through his hair in mock affection (or pity, Tommy can’t tell), it forces a shiver out of him.   
  
The axe, as powerful as it is, doesn’t go through in one swing. It comes down hard, forcing a cry from Tommy’s throat, a pounding and unbearably hot sensation springing from his back. His wings attempt to beat and flap, but the grip strengthens once more, holding him just still enough for Dream to land a second swing. 

There’s a loud crack as the axe comes down, followed immediately by something Tommy would willingly admit was a scream. White hot pain shoots from the spot, so much so that he probably wouldn’t have even noticed the third strike if not for how much _lighter_ it made him feel. There’s a pounding in his ears, the scent of fresh blood clouding his senses. He feels dizzy and sick and terrible, and so horrifically conscious as Dream takes a breath and swings at his other wing.

The pain is muddled together at this point, shock and panic flooding Tommy’s senses enough so that as Dream _slowly, too slowly_ severs his other wing, he can hardly feel it. He only knows it’s done once he’s released, tears rolling freely down his face, his voice hoarse and choking as he collapses forward. He’s trembling, his mind in too much of a fog to process much of anything. Nothing more than the pounding in his chest, the fiery ache in his back, and the scent of hot blood. 

He isn’t aware of how much time has passed, but he’s sure that Sapnap, George, and Dream have left him. And part of him- part of him prays for death, prays he’ll die of blood loss before the monsters of the night can reach him. Before anyone else can see him.   
  
He isn’t quite given that mercy. It’s just as he passes out, thankful for the death that surely awaits him, that he hears a scream, and footfalls approach him. He doesn’t get to witness the remainder of the reaction.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s Tubbo who finds him. It’s Tubbo, Tommy’s right hand man, who holds out the torch that illuminates his body, bleeding out on the ground. He’s genuinely startled at first, nearly dropping the torch as he jumps, but his next immediate reaction is to rush to Tommy’s side. 

“Tommy?! Tommy, are you alright-?!” He yells, his hand clasping on to Tommy’s shoulder. There’s no response, verbal or otherwise, and after a second or two of pure panic, Tubbo stands, pulling Tommy’s arm with him. It’s a bit of a struggle- Tommy isn’t exactly heavy, but he’s lanky and much taller than Tubbo, and that makes the whole process a bit more difficult. “Come on.” He says, his voice soft and panicky, as if someone would hear him and strike him down. 

It’s a very real possibility.

”Come on Tommy, _please.”_ Tubbo repeats, beginning to pull his friend back into the safety of L’manburgh’s walls. His hand crosses Tommy’s shoulder as he walks, and almost immediately the realization fully sets in, cold dread and horror wracking through him. He squeezes Tommy tighter almost instinctively, quickening his pace towards the medical tent. 

He _cannot_ let Wilbur see.   
  
There’s nothing Tubbo can do to prevent his friend from respawning. He becomes more and more aware of this as he gets closer, the warm blood from Tommy’s wounds contrasting with the cold chill of his own. At this point, all Tubbo can really do is get Tommy to a bed to make the process less painful. Get Tommy to a bed and pray that the wings come back when he respawns. Hope that Wilbur doesn’t see him as it happens.

By some small grace, Tubbo makes it back on to L’manburgh ground undetected, even as he brings Tommy into the medical building. His breathing is heavy from both exertion and panic, and he finds the closest bed to lay Tommy across. There’s a horrible moment where Tubbo considers the optimal position to lay his friend, having to consider the wound as well as it’s visibility. 

Eventually, he decides on laying Tommy on his stomach, hoping that his friend won’t vomit in his sleep. It forces Tubbo to come face to face with the wounds, lit up by the prominent torchlight, and suddenly he’s not as concerned that _Tommy’s_ going to be the one vomiting.

Tommy’s blue L’manburgh jacket is nearly bright red where the base of his wings once were, the beautiful red feathers replaced by this cruel mimicry. There’s still a bit there, but the lack of care is nauseating. The blood gives way to torn muscle and tendon, and eventually cracked bone. The worst bit, Tubbo thinks, his eyes glued to Tommy’s back- the worst bit is that he can still see the slow rise and fall of his friend’s chest.

He feels very queasy, swallowing down a wave of bile that rises in his throat, the acidic taste mixing poorly with the overwhelming scent of blood. With trembling hands, he reaches for one of the thin blankets they have, covering Tommy’s body and stepping outside. He walks without much thought, his mind still wracked by shock as he walks towards L’manburgh’s storage area.   
  
He rummages through the chests, ignoring the stacks of materials and blocks, eventually settling for an older iron sword, the metal dinged in some areas. His stomach twists terribly as he closes the chest, sword in hand, and as he turns he practically jumps out of his skin at the sight of Fundy. 

“Tubbo? What are you doing out so late?” Fundy asks, his eyes shifting between Tubbo’s startled expression and the sword in his hand, catching on the blood that has soaked into his coat sleeve. He’d looked tired before, but the sight of blood has his eyes opening wide with concern. “Are you hurt? Do we need to go to the medical tent?”

”N-No, we don’t,” Tubbo practically yelps, his voice quick and frantic. It does nothing to help his case against Fundy, the man’s expression becoming a little more worried. “I ah, I just came back from a mining trip. Yeah. And um, and I got hurt on my way back. I’m fine though, really.”

Fundy makes a noncommittal noise, stepping closer, and Tubbo can’t help the way his breath catches in his throat as he reaches for his arm, holding it up so he can see it better. It forces Tubbo to get a better look at the man’s expression, his eyebrows furrowed with heavy concern, eyes meticulously scanning over his arm. Fundy is the closest thing they have to a doctor in L’manburgh, and Tubbo weighs his options before speaking.

”Tubbo, there isn’t an injury here-“

”Do you promise not to tell Wilbur?”

Their words overlap, and Fundy looks up, eyebrow quirked as he looks Tubbo in the eyes. “I’m sorry, what-?” He asks, and Tubbo swallows, unable to take back what he’d said. This was Fundy- he could trust Fundy. Surely he could trust Fundy. _Though,_ he remembers bitterly, _he thought the same about Eret too._ But this is different.

”Do you promise not to tell Wilbur?” Tubbo repeats, his voice less scared than it had been the first time he’d said it. It sounds more sad now, more pleading and desperate. Fundy hesitates, then nods slowly, and Tubbo takes his arm and guides him towards the medical tent. The sword feels light in his other hand.

They enter the medical tent, and the small drops of blood present on the floor don’t go unnoticed by either of them. No comment is made on it, however, as Tubbo brings Fundy into the room, biting his cheek as he sees the blood soaked blanket. 

“Jesus Christ,” Fundy murmurs as Tubbo makes his way to Tommy’s side, carefully peeling up the blanket, averting his eyes. There’s an audible catch of breath from Fundy, one that Tubbo pays no mind, and instead he puts his attention to checking Tommy’s vitals. He waits, adjusts his own grip, and slowly, he finds a barely noticeable pulse. “Tubbo, what happened? Who-“

”I-I don’t know. I found him like this, in the woods,” Tubbo answers, his voice hardly more than a whisper. “He- He’s still alive, but I-I’m not sure what to do.”   
  
The sword feels heavy in his grip now, his palm slick against the hilt. 

Fundy walks over, wordlessly checking Tommy’s vitals, the same way Tubbo had. There’s a second where Fundy’s eyes grow dark, but then, his eyebrows furrow just slightly more, his jaw clenched. Tubbo stands there, observing, and after a moment he forces the words out of his throat. 

“I think- I think he needs to respawn, Fundy,” Tubbo says, his voice thick and choked. Fundy looks back at him, and instead of shock, Tubbo is met with a calculating expression. He feels the need to justify himself. “Maybe his wings will come back if he respawns. And, to be honest, I don’t think he’d want to live without them.” There’s a pause as Tubbo catches his breath, and when he speaks again, his voice is quieter. “I don’t want him to be in more pain than he has to be.”

”Tubbo, it’s alright,” Fundy assures, though nothing in his voice says that this is okay. Because this _isn’t_ okay, and it’s something they both know. There’s a pause, and Fundy takes a step back from the bed. “If you... If you stab through his heart, he should die.” He says, and Tubbo swallows, nodding. His hands are clammy, and for a moment, he just stands there, paralyzed both physically and mentally. Then, slowly, he moves, flipping Tommy on to his back, clutching his friend tightly as he does.

There’s a twitch in Tommy’s eyes as he does, and that nearly stops Tubbo all together. But he presses on, resting Tommy on his back in a way that is without a doubt uncomfortable, then grips the sword again. He holds it, his palms cold and sweaty, a hot stinging sensation swelling up behind his eyes. He bites his lip, holding the sword for a moment, near trembling in place.

”Tubbo,” Fundy says, his voice soft and pained and pitying. “I-If you want, I can do it.” He says, and that twists something in Tubbo’s chest, and immediately he shakes his head. He takes another breath, psyching himself up- he has to do this with enough force to kill. He _has_ to. Anything less than that is torturous, and Tommy doesn’t deserve that.

Tubbo takes one final breath and brings the sword down square in Tommy’s chest, his eyes squeezing shut as he does. He hears a crack and a hitched breath, and feels something twitch through the sword. He holds it there, hands shaking and tears trailing down his cheeks, dripping off his chin. He doesn’t move after that, locked into place, gripping the hilt of the sword so tightly he can feel his own pulse thrum in his hands.

After a moment, he feel’s Fundy’s hands overlap with his own, guiding him so that the blade is pulled from Tommy’s chest with an ugly sound. The sword drops immediately after, too heavy for Tubbo’s trembling hands, and Tubbo sobs, a choked cry working out of his throat. He’s brought into a hug, clinging to Fundy as he sobs, shaking in the man’s arms and gripping his coat as he does.

They stand there in Tommy’s room, holding each other tightly, the only sound being Tubbo’s wrecked voice as he cries into Fundy’s shoulder. The scent of copper stays. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TommyInnit was slain by Tubbo_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in one day, you lucky bastards.

It takes longer than Fundy or Tubbo could have ever anticipated.

Respawning is by no means a quick, painless process. However, the pain can be lessened if one dies in a bed, and the process generally goes quicker, too. This is because beds are respawn points, places where you wake up from the pain neatly knitted back together, as if the damage inflicted was nothing more than a bad dream.

Dying away from a bed forces a body to completely unwind and dissolve, slowly reassembling itself at the last place the person slept. It's common knowledge; anyone who hasn't experienced it themselves has likely seen it happen to others. Dying away from a bed causes the process to take hours, nearly a full day, while dying in one could take up to eight hours depending on the wounds.

Tommy's not done respawning, not even twelve hours later.

Fundy offers to stay by Tommy's side, and while Tubbo's immediate response is a desperate, pleading _no,_ Fundy manages to convince him. Fundy is the closest thing L'manburgh has to a medic, and if Tommy wakes up, Fundy assures him that he'll get Tubbo immediately. The most convincing point, though, is there is no way that Wilbur wouldn't notice both of them missing for so long.

The idea of Wilbur finding Tommy in this state is something that makes Tubbo's stomach sick, and with that in mind, he mutely nods, leaving the medical tent. 

The scent of blood hangs around him, clings to him as a painful reminder, and the first thing Tubbo decides to do is change into a clean uniform. It doesn't do much to get rid of the coppery scent or the unease in his stomach, but it does something, and it's worth that much. It's late morning, and Tubbo tries to think of something to distract himself.

He could go mining, boost their resources a bit, but he remembers what happened to Tommy when he'd tried going out by himself. And even though the sun shines high, a stark contrast to the dark Tubbo had found him in, the anxiety that something might happen to him too is enough to stop him.   
  
It’s late morning, and both Tubbo and Fundy have gone without breakfast. Though, Tubbo thinks, he doubts either him or Fundy would be able to stomach much of anything for a while. That option is immediately tossed aside, and finally, Tubbo decides to sit by the river. 

It’s almost peaceful, watching the salmon swim about, and as Tubbo forces his mind to focus on anything, anything but his friend, the exhaustion begins to creep into his system. He’d already been tired when he found Tommy, and with all that happened, he wasn’t able to get any kind of sleep. It’s only now as he forces his mind to turn blank that he lets his eyes shut for longer than a few seconds, and he falls asleep sitting up, knees tucked against his chest and his hat blocking out the harshest bits of sunlight.

His body is hot when a hand rests on his shoulder, light and gentle. It shakes him, jostling him just so, bringing Tubbo back from sleep with a small hum. He squints as he tips his cap back up, distantly realizing just how sweaty he is, and how long he must have been sitting here. His shirt clings to him underneath his coat, and the hand on his shoulder almost feels like a brand.

Tubbo’s almost relieved as he wakes up, a small smile tugging at his lips as he rubs his eyes, eliminating the sun spots that dance around his vision. He immediately thinks that Fundy’s the one who’s woken him, having come to tell him that Tommy’s woken up, patched up and fine.

The cold shock he gets as he meets Wilbur’s eyes is almost enough to make him vomit then and there. 

Wilbur’s expression shows concern, soft amusement as his thumb traces circles in Tubbo’s shoulder. Wilbur’s wings are outstretched, golden feathers blocking out a bit of the sunlight, shadowing Tubbo in a way that shouldn’t be menacing. In a way that should provide comfort. 

“Did you fall asleep here, Tubbo?” Wilbur asks, and his voice mirrors his expression, concern and slight amusement tracing over each of his words. _Seriously,_ Tubbo thinks, _he’s going to throw up-_ but he bites his tongue and nods, ignoring the familiar stinging sensation that swells behind his eyes. He doesn’t break eye contact with Wilbur- he knows he’ll fall apart if he does. 

He nearly falls apart anyways, watching Wilbur’s eyes shift just slightly, the man’s expression falling ever so slightly as he notices the bags under Tubbo’s eyes. “What were you doing last night?” He asks, and Tubbo immediately feels as though he’s been caught- as if the blood is still on his hands.

”N-Nothing, Wilbur.” 

His voice is cracked when he answers, and it’s what brings Wilbur’s concern to the forefront. Tubbo’s a terrible liar, he knows this, but it’s all he can do to prevent Wilbur from knowing. So, as Wilbur shifts to sit next to him, wing draping across his back in a way that’s intended to be comforting, Tubbo quickly amends himself. 

“I went out late last night to go mining.”

That part is easier, since it’s technically true. His voice is more even, and he hopes his exhaustion bleeds through more than the pain he feels in his chest. It must come out as a mix of both, though, because Wilbur tilts his head at him, his lips forming a small frown. There’s a pause, presumably for Tubbo to elaborate on what happened, but he doesn’t say anything. 

Wilbur decides to drop the subject. The one he brings up instead is much worse.

”Have you seen Tommy around?” He asks, and it’s the way Tubbo freezes up, shoulders tensing and eyes focused solely on his own, that causes Wilbur to become genuinely scared. Tubbo doesn’t say anything, so Wilbur speaks again, unwilling to let his mind conjure up possibilities. “Tubbo, where’s Tommy?” He asks, a bit more directly this time, his voice low and serious and scared.

Tubbo blinks for what Wilbur realizes must be the first time since he greeted him, and tears fall from his eyes, rolling down his cheeks in fat drops. Tubbo doesn’t respond, stammers and choked back whispers falling from trembling lips as his entire body begins to shake under Wilbur’s touch. Wilbur’s wing twists back, and he immediately drapes his arm around Tubbo, pulling him closer and letting the boy cry.   
  
His own stomach twists as he does, chest tight as Tubbo curls up on himself, choking on air and nearly hyperventilating. It takes a while, but Wilbur holds him through it, letting him cry and catch his breath in uneven little gasps. Once his breathing is mostly even, occasional little sniffs and coughs coming from him, Wilbur gives him a little more space. He makes sure his voice is soft when he asks again, but he can’t help how tight it sounds, the pain that slips into his voice.

”Tubbo, where’s Tommy?”

Tubbo opens his mouth, and when he can’t quite force the words out, he gives a small jerk of his head in the direction of the medical tent. Wilbur’s stomach drops, and he stands immediately, only for Tubbo’s hand to catch his own, squeezing tightly. He looks down towards Tubbo, the child’s eyes wide and his face horribly pale. 

_“Please.”_ He manages, his voice nearly a squeak. The desperation in his voice puts him at begging, and it causes Wilbur’s fear to skyrocket, his wings puffing up with obvious emotion. He’s not entirely sure what Tubbo means by it, but it’s not difficult to narrow it down to two options. Either Tubbo didn’t want to be left alone, or Tubbo didn’t want Wilbur to go to the medical tent. 

Wilbur hates the card he pulls, but in that moment, he feels it’s necessary. 

“Tubbo,” He starts, the boy flinching at the stern authoritarian tone, so much so that Wilbur can’t help but gentle it, keeping his voice even as he continues. “As your general, I demand you take me to the medical tent immediately.” 

Tubbo stares up at him, shock and disbelief clear as day. It’s all underlined with that same gut wrenching fear, and for a moment, Wilbur thinks he’s gone too far. But Tubbo uses his hand to pull himself up, his eyes diverted to the grass as he begins guiding Wilbur to the medical tent. Wilbur walks quicker than he does, his wing extending back around Tubbo protectively, his feathers still ruffled from nerves.   
  
Nothing is immediately wrong when they enter the building- there’s no mess of blood to speak of, and aside from their footfalls, the place is entirely quiet. It provides no relief, though, and instead makes the air between them more tense. Tubbo squeezes his hand tightly, looking up and pulling Wilbur towards the first room. He makes no move to open the door, and instead steps back behind Wilbur. 

Wilbur glances at him as he moves, seeing the boy’s hands clenched into fists at his side, his frame still shaking ever so slightly. Wilbur’s wings fold back, his chest tight as he turns and reaches for the doorknob, pushing the door open. 

The sight is worse than anything his imagination could conjure.


	4. Chapter 4

Wilbur’s first reaction is pure and utter horror as he takes in the sight of his right hand man- of the child he considered a younger brother. His younger brother, laid on his chest in the hospital bed, his own blood pooled around him and staining the mattress beyond repair. Tommy, _his younger brother,_ dead and missing his pair of red feathered wings.

 _No,_ Wilbur thinks, anger pulsing through him as he stares at the hospital bed. _Not missing. Missing didn’t give enough credit to the poorly done job of their removal. Deprived was a more accurate sentiment._

A faint glow surrounds the injury, bits of glowing dust idly floating around him, trying to piece together what isn’t there. There isn’t any sort of glow to suggest that his wings will return, and, Wilbur notes with a flash of hot anger, the injury itself isn’t even fully mended. He can see muscle and tendon, slowly trying to weave itself back together, the dust settling and making the progress look almost like a stop motion film.  
  
In normal healing, this process would be considered something rapid and quick, much better than the months and numerous surgeries it would take otherwise. But for respawning, seemingly in the same bed Tommy died in, the process is unbelievably slow. 

“W-Wilbur-“ Fundy stammers, and it’s the first time Wilbur even notices he’s in the room. Wilbur’s head jerks to face Fundy, and he sees the man tense, the same bags under his eyes as Tubbo’s. The man looks exhausted, blood staining his uniform, the coat shucked on a chair nearby. A potion stand brews next to him, and Wilbur can tell from the color that they’re potions of regeneration. 

“How long has he been dead for?” Wilbur asks, and his voice is seething with restrained rage. Fundy and Tubbo are both undeserving of it- they aren’t at fault. It’s better to save this for whoever decided to do this. Fundy glances behind Wilbur, a failed attempt at making eye contact with Tubbo. The boy’s eyes are too drawn to the floor to notice. So, Fundy’s eyes lock back on to Wilbur’s, a small bit of tension bleeding out of his shoulders.

”Fifteen hours, roughly.” Fundy answers, and that nearly sets Wilbur off, if not for the fact that Fundy continues after a brief pause. “He’s improving, but with the way everything’s knitting back together, Will, I don’t know if- if they’re gonna come back.”

The concept of that stuns him, his eyes wide and furious, jaw clenched so tightly it hurts. He glances towards his younger brother, watching as the dust settles slowly still, the mess of tendon and muscle a horrible sight. Neither Wilbur nor Fundy have dealt with limb reattachment during the respawn process. Breaks and fractures, sure, but Tommy’s wings are gone, and the muscle is already repairing itself.

”Where- Where are his wings?” Wilbur asks, his attention switching back to Fundy, forcing himself to keep his eyes locked on the medic. He’s absolutely furious, so much so that he completely disregards the look Fundy shoots over his shoulder, his wings puffing up. “Well?!”

There’s a tense silence in the room, Fundy’s ears pressed back and his tail fluffing up. Tubbo’s voice is quiet and pained, and the first noise to break the silence. 

“I-I found him in the woods. He didn’t have them.” 

Wilbur turns now to face Tubbo, noting how the boy won’t meet his eyes, his hands still clenched tightly at his side. No tears fall now, and Wilbur realizes with a pang of aching _hurt_ that maybe there were no more tears left to. The boy’s voice is rough, quiet and just barely above a whisper. He continues without anyone asking him to.

”He was- He was still alive, when I found him. I-I carried him back, and I thought... I thought maybe if he respawned, they would come back.“ Tubbo rambles, lip trembling as he does, his knees locked into place. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

Wilbur puts two and two together quick enough. His voice is gentle when he next speaks, the anger set aside for now. 

“And you didn’t think to get Fundy?”

”No, Will,” Fundy says, his voice similarly even, holding his ground. Wilbur looks back to him, slightly relieved once he notices it looks as if Fundy’s calmed. “I found Tubbo, and he brought me here. We both decided it would be for the best if we- if we put him out of his misery.” There’s a pause as Fundy swallows, but he keeps Wilbur’s eye contact. “It would have been torture otherwise.”

Wilbur pauses, his brain working to process everything that’s happened, and once it has, he gives Fundy a curt nod. He thinks on his wording, then turns so that he can face Fundy, Tubbo, and Tommy, creating a small circle in the room. “You all did wonderful. You did what was necessary,” He says, his gaze starting on Fundy, then shifting to Tubbo. “And you did what was right. I am proud of both of you.”

His words seem to put Tubbo at ease, his hands unclenching just slightly, his posture less stressed. It settles something in Wilbur, and he sighs, standing up a little taller. “We can’t keep going like this.” He admits, more to himself than to the others. “With Eret gone, and with Tommy... we’ll be fighting for nothing but ruins at this point.”

“And just let Dream win?” Fundy says, his voice incredulous as he looks to Wilbur, his eyes wide. “Wilbur, maybe- maybe we just need more recruits. We can’t let Dream keep hurting us like this. What do we even go back to?”

It hurts something awful in Wilbur’s chest. He knows Fundy has a point- Tubbo’s home was burned down during the war, and Fundy had been nothing but a resident of L’manburgh. There was nowhere for either of them to go. 

“We’ll make something, Fundy. We’ll manage,” Wilbur assures, though he can’t help the heartbreak from leaking into his voice. His gaze crosses Tommy, the faint glow across his back still working. “We have to.”

There’s a silence in the room that doesn’t oppose him, and Wilbur sighs, his gaze lowering away from his men. “Tubbo, Fundy, I want you to stay by Tommy’s side, and make sure he improves. If there’s any change in his condition, inform me immediately.” He orders, and Fundy nods, keeping still. Will turns to look at Tubbo, who’s still standing just in front of the doorway, an utterly wrecked look to him. Tubbo meets his gaze, and there’s something so pained behind his eyes, something that lingers in Wilbur as Tubbo steps towards Tommy’s bed. 

Wilbur watches him, Tubbo standing over Tommy’s bed and threading a hand through his hair, and mentally notes to make sure these boys are safe and protected in the future. To right his own wrongs. With one final glance at Fundy, a hope for the man to watch over the two children, Wilbur makes his exit, retreating to the hto dog van to compose a formal treaty.

It takes a while to get the wording right, to make sure Wilbur’s thoroughly admitted their loss in a way that would possibly spare them some dignity, possibly leave them with something. It’s a painful process, and Wilbur finds himself stopping every now and then to glance out the windows of the van, towards the swaths of tall redwood trees.

They’d worked so hard. _But,_ Wilbur notes, pressing the quill back to the paper, _for the safety of his people, it was worth giving up their freedom._

The weather of the day contrasts completely and indifferently against the mood. It’s sunny, with chirping birds and babbling brooks and clouds that drift by in the breeze. As Wilbur walks on to Dream SMP territory, his footsteps landing heavy on the oaken pathway, he notices that nobody seems to be around. It’s strange, but not to the point where Wilbur is genuinely concerned. Just strange enough to be noticeable.

He thinks nothing of it as he approaches the communal house, his breath catching in his throat as he steps closer, and eventually stops in his tracks. He hears something, distant and droning, and with a morbid curiosity that sends his stomach plummeting, he steps forwards. The noise grows louder as he gets closer, and it isn’t until Wilbur is stood at the doorway that he allows himself to realize what’s happened. 

He peeks inside, seeing George, Sapnap, and Dream sitting around a jukebox, Mellohi playing loudly from the speaker. There’s loud conversation and laughter, the trio recounting some story or another, spoils split between them. Wilbur’s shocked, but as his eyes land on something, he feels nothing but a blinding rage and murderous intent. 

A red feather hangs lowly from Dream’s neck.


	5. Chapter 5

The treaty Wilbur’s written is discarded the second he steps back on to L’manburgh soil, his wings puffed up and large. He tosses it to the ground and digs his heel into it, letting the ground smudge the words beyond recognition, the pages crinkling underfoot. He has half a mind to burn the damn thing, but that would take too long, and right now, he needs to work quickly. 

This war isn’t over yet. Not if he can help it. And when he’s done, he wants absolutely nothing left of the Dream Team. He wants their blood strewn across that wooden pathway, he wants that building up in flames, he wants to choke Dream by that necklace. 

Wilbur takes a breath, his expression set in a deep scowl as he makes his way towards the hto dog van, the door slamming shut behind him as he makes his way to the back room. He spends the next hour or so in there, quill to paper again, uncaring for the cramp he has in his hand once he’s finished. The letters are mostly identical, each one explaining their current situation, while at the same time attempting to be concise. There are periods in which Wilbur can’t help but rant, furious with the situation, and because of that each letter varies in information. 

It’s fine, Wilbur decides. He’s not about to go and redo them. So, he seals both of them off and collects them into his pack, once again leaving L’manburgh. He’s no longer bursting at the seams with rage, but there’s nothing saying he won’t go off like a bomb if he sees Dream or his crew again. Luckily for him, it seems they’re all too busy celebrating their _victory-_ _celebrating the mutilation of his younger brother._

When he spots a village, he nearly considers burning it to the ground, just to blow off some steam. But that would be entirely contradictory to what he was trying to do, and would delay him much longer. So, instead, he grips the letters tight, and walks about, finding a villager willing to deliver the letters. He ends up having to trade some sticks for an emerald or two, which he then pays the other to deliver the letters, but it’s worth it. 

Fundy was right. They needed to call on reinforcements.

—

Tommy wakes up after thirty two hours in intensive care. He groans, the taste in his mouth fucking awful as he pushes himself up so that he can sit in the bed. The sheet sticks slightly to his front, stinging as he pulls it away from his chest. With a glance at it, he quickly comes to the conclusion that whoever found him managed to get him here before he died. 

He doesn’t think too hard on it, and instead takes the time to look around the room. There’s a potion stand brewing on the table, some kind of liquid beginning to collect in the bottles. It isn’t until he turns his head that he notices he isn’t alone in the room. Tubbo is sat next to him, curled up in a chair in a position that definitely can’t be comfortable. Still, he’s passed out, L’manburgh coat used as a blanket and his hat set on the side table next to him.

It settles something in Tommy, and while he hates to think that his friend had to watch him die and respawn, he’s comforted by the fact that he didn’t wake up alone. He reaches a hand out, a slight smile tugging at his lips as his hand finds Tubbo’s hair, ruffling it just slightly. The motion stretches something uncomfortably in Tommy’s back, but he doesn’t check on it.

He’d rather stay here with his friend, willfully pretending that everything was fine. It seemed like a better option than the alternative. 

Over time, Tubbo’s eyes twitch as he begins to stir, the light shining in his eyes enough to disturb his rest. Tommy pulls his hand back with one final pat to Tubbo’s head, sitting back in the bed as he watches his friend stir. Tubbo yawns, rubbing at his eyes, then looks over to Tommy’s bed. He doesn’t seem to notice immediately, his eyes moving away from Tommy and towards the rest of the room, but once the information processes his head whips back to Tommy so quickly it strains something in his neck.

His eyes are wide, fixed on Tommy’s face as he offers his friend a small smile. 

Tubbo is out of his seat and in Tommy’s arms in an instant, squeezing the boy so tightly he might just have to die and respawn again. They don’t say anything, but Tommy laughs, holding Tubbo just as close. “You’re so clingy,” He chides, unable to help the full grin he breaks out into once he hears the slightly choked up laugh. “Seriously, you can’t leave me alone for five seconds, can you?”

”Oh, shut up,” Tubbo answers, his voice a little giggly as he answers. He pulls back after a second, and the smile on his face finds its match in Tommy’s own. His eyebrows raise suddenly, a small gasp leaving his lips. “Oh- I have to get Wilbur! He told me and Fundy to go get him when you woke up-“ Tubbo rambles, looking around the room and then stopping, eyes going back to Tommy. “Did you wake up before me?”

”I did, but not by much,” Tommy answers, and something begins to fester inside of him. He isn’t sure he likes it. “Fundy wasn’t here when I woke up.”

Tubbo nods, then picks his coat back up from the chair, and his hat up from the table. He quickly puts both on, his arm briefly getting caught in his coat sleeve before he settles it. “I’ll be right back Tommy, I promise,” Tubbo says, looking towards Tommy, and Tommy can’t help the way his expression falls.

”Can’t I just come with you? I’m fine, really.” Tommy asks, and he tries to convince himself that it’s more of a pride thing rather than the fact he doesn’t want to be left alone here. Tubbo seems to consider it, then shakes head. 

“I don’t think so- he’d probably prefer it if you stayed put. Besides,” Tubbo says, gesturing an arm out to Tommy’s own. “You’re hooked up to an IV, and I have no idea how to remove them.”

Tommy looks to his arm, now noticing the needle that’s taped to his skin, and the thin tube that runs to a potion bottle. It raises a few questions in his mind, but then Tubbo’s speaking again, and Tommy doesn’t think he’s going to get much of an answer from him. 

”Anyways, I’m going to go get Wilbur. I’ll be back really soon, I promise.” Tubbo assures, and Tommy bites back just how much he wants Tubbo to stay with him, nodding. 

”Alright.”

Tubbo grins at him one last time, then hurries his way out of the room, leaving Tommy alone in the medical area. Tommy sighs, shifting awkwardly in the bed until he’s found a comfortable position, opting to stay sitting against the pillows. Meanwhile, Tubbo sprints out of the medical tent, a grin so wide on his face that it almost hurts. He tries looking around first, and once that proves futile, he starts his shouting, calling Wilbur’s name as loud as he can. 

He doesn’t get a response at first, but when he does, the voice is distant.

“Tubbo-?” 

“Wilbur! Where are you?” Tubbo shouts, trying to locate Wilbur by the sound of his voice. He doesn’t get very far, but luckily Wilbur answers him, sounding a little closer. 

“I’m by the main gate. Come here.”

Tubbo nods, and runs as fast as he is able towards the main gate of the L’manburgh walls. He smiles once he sees Fundy, standing with them, Wilbur’s golden wings visible. He’s talking to two other people Tubbo has never met before- one with wings that remind Tubbo of a hawk, and another with a pair that remind him of a raven. He stops, and Wilbur’s eyes catch his own, a slight smile shifting on his otherwise tired expression. 

“Phil, Techno,” Wilbur addresses before Tubbo can get the chance to speak. “This is Tubbo, Tommy’s friend and one of our best soldiers.” Wilbur explains, gesturing out towards the boy. Tubbo nods, flushing slightly at the comment, his smile still present as the two other adults turn to him.

The one with raven wings has blond hair and stubble, a mostly green outfit paired with a green and white bucket hat. The other has pink hair done in a braid, his outfit similar to the L’manburgh uniform, if he’d swapped the navy coat and hat for a red cloak and a crown. They both look at him, the blond one meeting him with a smile. The pink haired one looks him up and down, then turns to Wilbur with a quirked brow and a lazy smile. 

“Child labor, huh? I didn’t think you had it in you,” He comments, his voice tinged with the slightest bit of amusement. It brings an eye roll out of Wilbur, but other than that, he gives the man no acknowledgement. “I’m not saying that’s a _bad_ thing.” The man adds, and it brings a bubbly sort of laugh from the blond one.

”Tubbo,” Wilbur starts, his voice sharp so as to change the subject, only causing the blond man to laugh just a little more. “This is Techno,” He gestures to the pink one. “And this is Philza. They’re going to be assisting us in our efforts against the Dream SMP.”

”We’re still fighting?” Tubbo asks, and Wilbur nods. The emotion that sets into Tubbo’s system is the exact opposite of what it might have been just a few hours ago. He stands just a bit taller, squaring his shoulders as he gives a nod, his smile still present as he does. “Good! I promise I won’t let you down.”

Wilbur seems pleasantly surprised by the shift in mood, a grin breaking out onto his own face as he steps over, lifting Tubbo’s hat up before ruffling his hair excitedly. “Atta boy! We’re going to crush them!” Wilbur chimes, and it forces a laugh from Tubbo’s throat, even as Wilbur releases him and sets his hat back on his head. ”Tubbo, is there any improvement from Tommy?” He asks as he steps back, and Tubbo beams as he adjusts his cap.

”He’s awake, Wilbur! He woke up just a few minutes ago.”

That makes Wilbur’s eyes go wide, Phil and Techno looking between each other. Tubbo pauses just slightly, and Wilbur takes notice, immediately choking out whatever words will come to him. “Good, good-! Hey Tubbo, you know what? How about this, you go and have a nice day. It’s been really stressful, and you deserve it. The three of us are going to talk with Tommy, alright?” Wilbur requests, and Tubbo falters.

He wants to spend time with Tommy, he’s missed him, and he promised Tommy that he would be back soon. But something about this doesn’t seem like something he should turn down. So he nods, perhaps a little dejected, even as Wilbur gives him a soft smile and sets his hand on his shoulder. 

“Thank you, Tubbo. You’re dismissed for the day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you get a long one today, you bastards. first time i’ve had to do one of those little scene dividers in this fic too. better not make me do that again lmao.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brief warning!! this chapter does contain mentions of vomit. it doesn’t go into as graphic of detail as the first two chapters do with other things, primarily because I don’t want to have to mark “vomit” as a tag on this fic the same way I know I had to mark “major character injury” and things like that. please proceed with caution if that kind of stuff bothers you.

In the time that Tubbo’s gone, Tommy is left alone with his thoughts. His mind doesn’t let him fully recall what had occurred before he- well, before he ended up here, and instead, his thoughts wander to just how dreadful the room is. For starters, the thing’s terribly quiet. It’s tense and bad, and combines horribly with the stark white interior of the building. It’s like an insane asylum more than it is a hospital- the key difference being how much it feels like mental torture. 

And while sure, there is _some_ color in the room, it gets boring looking at a brewing stand, and Tommy would rather not stare at his own blood in the sheets. He’d like to think he’s not _that_ crazy yet. 

It’s also strangely cold. He can understand why Tubbo had his jacket pulled over him like a blanket- why he’d opted for curling his entire body up underneath it. Tommy considers doing the same, but eventually decides against it. He’s not going to stay in the room long enough for it to become a problem, he thinks, adjusting his position ever so slightly. He’s handled war, he can handle being in a cold room for a few minutes. 

Time begins to drone on, melding into itself in a way that makes it feel like both hours and seconds by the time he hears footsteps heading towards him. Either way, he lets out a sigh of relief, eyes on the door as not Tubbo, but Wilbur, Phil, and Techno enter the room. Tommy’s stomach churns suddenly, a sickly feeling wracking through him.

Wilbur’s expression is bittersweet, a pained grin on his face as he looks at Tommy. The look on Phil’s face is one of poorly concealed shock and horror, his mouth slightly agape and his eyes wide as he takes Tommy in. Techno is the hardest to get a read on, but his eyebrows are raised and his lips are pressed in a flat line. 

Wilbur breaks the tension. “It’s good to see you’re awake, Tommy,” He says, and there’s this awkward sort of tone to his voice, one that disappears as he quietly clears his throat. “How are you- How are you feeling?”

Tommy doesn’t think he can look at Techno or Phil anymore, so he settles on meeting Wilbur’s gaze, his eyebrows slightly furrowed when he does. “I’m fine, Will. I’m fine,” He answers, but with the tension in the room and the sickly feeling that’s been nagging in the back of his mind, his voice comes out low and quiet. Something is so unsettlingly wrong, he knows it. He rolls his shoulders as he slumps over, and again, there’s that dull ache in his back.   
  
The nagging feeling gets stronger, and he doesn’t pay attention to what Wilbur’s saying as he reaches an arm back, feeling at the spot near his shoulders. His hand comes into contact with a knob of some sorts, sensitive to the touch and entirely unfamiliar. His eyes widen, and he thinks he hears Wilbur suddenly stop talking, but he isn’t paying enough attention to really tell. 

Instead, his breathing picks up, his hand reaching a little bit further, only to come into contact with a matching knob near his other shoulder blade. The chill of the room intensifies, and Tommy becomes more or less frozen in place as panic sets into his system. He- He should have his wings, they should be right there- he can feel the same tingle he would normally feel when they would puff up and tense, and he feels the joint shift under his touch, but there’s _nothing there-_

“W-Will?” Tommy asks, his voice coming out in an undignified squeak. His gaze finds itself on Wilbur again, as if the man will look at him strangely and tell him he was being crazy- _that his wings were still there._ What he gets is nothing but aching hurt and pity, Wilbur’s eyes slightly wide and his lips settling into a deep frown as he watches.

Memories begin to resurface, and for the life of him, Tommy isn’t sure he wants them to. Especially not when he feels the knobs twitch and squirm and beat- a horribly painful sharp sensation beginning to spread through his back. It causes him to gasp, choking on air as the harsh reality fully sets in. 

His wings are gone. They’re gone, but it feels like they’re still there. Like they’re halfway through being _hacked off-_

There’s a hand on his shoulder, and Tommy flinches back, legs getting tangled in the bedding as he quickly runs over to the washbasin, keeling over it and vomiting. Tears swell in his eyes as he does, stomach acid removing itself from his system until eventually Tommy’s left dry heaving, his nose clogged and tears dripping down his chin. He pants, trembling, gripping the basin like it’s a lifeline. 

“Tommy...” Wilbur says, and Tommy can’t decide between finding comfort in his tone or being absolutely repulsed by the amount of pity it contains.

He nearly keels over again as he hears Phil’s distant murmur, a soft and wrecked “Oh Jesus.” leaving his lips. He has a headache, he’s dizzy, his stomach churns and he doesn’t think he could breathe properly if he even tried it. There’s too many emotions and sensations and memories bouncing around in his head to make sense of, and Tommy thinks he’d rather like to be alone in this room for a while. 

Thank god Techno isn’t easily phased by things like this. “Uh guys, maybe we should leave him alone for a little while...” He says, and for once, everything in Tommy’s system is screaming yes. He can’t see much else than the murky and acidic mess in the basin, but he can imagine the upset look that must cross Wilbur’s face when he speaks. 

“We can’t just _leave_ him, Techno!” Wilbur says, his tone incredulous as his voice increases in volume. “He isn’t doing well, and we need to be here for him,” He adds, and his voice sounds so hurt at the idea of having to leave, that Tommy nearly collapses against the washbasin at Wilbur’s next words. “He’s our family, I can’t just leave him.”

”I’m not saying I don’t want to be here, Wilbur,” Techno replies, and Tommy can’t tell much from the sharp monotonous tone his voice takes. “I’m saying I think Tommy needs a little bit of time alone-“

”Can you two _please_ stop arguing?!” 

_“Please-“_

Tommy and Phil’s words overlap, leaving a resounding silence in the room as Tommy shakes, taking a breath as he attempts to stand up a little straighter. He manages it, barely fighting back another wave of nausea, sniffling as he attempts to even out his breath. He feels their eyes on him, and pushes down the feelings of shame, fear, _guilt-_ and quietly chokes out a small, “G-Give me a minute, please. _Alone.”_

He’s met with silence, his pathetic attempt at breathing the only noise in the room. 

After a second, he hears Techno’s voice again, deep tone laced with something that could almost resemble amusement. “Alright, you heard the man, everybody out.” He instructs, and Tommy manages a glance at him, just barely catching the sympathy in the small smile the man gives him. “We’ll be just outside if you need us.” He adds, and Tommy nods, redirecting his attention to the wall just behind the basin as he hears Wilbur’s boots step further away from him, the door creaking as it opens and then again as it shuts. And again, Tommy’s alone.

Tommy slowly but surely begins to calm, his breath evening and his nausea fading away enough so that he can stand up a bit better. He doesn’t move from his spot, though, and instead lets his mind try to focus on what happened, fighting back each new wave of emotion. He isn’t sure what’s strongest, but the mix of shame, fear, grief and guilt that wracks through him is something he doesn’t want to get into right now. 

The knobs on his back twitch and move with phantom sensation as he recalls being caught by Dream and his crew, as he recalls being forced to kneel, as he recalls _willingly_ giving up his wings- as he recalls everything just up until Dream gets his first swing in. He stops himself just at the beginnings of that same sharp pain in his back, forcing away the memories with everything he has left. 

The emotion comes back tenfold once the memories are set aside. He feels bad for feeling guilty, feels pathetic for letting Dream do that to him- because he’d let him do it, hadn’t he? He’d stayed put and let them restrain him- let them pull his wings back and stayed still for it all. And for what? He, was pathetic, _he should have fought them, he-_

He remembers exactly why he’d stayed put, and immediately feels bad for feeling bad. 


	7. Chapter 7

Wilbur has half a mind to slam the medical room door shut, has half a mind to yell at Techno for wanting to leave Tommy, but Phil stops him both times- his hand catches the door as Will goes to slam it, and then it rests on his boys’ shoulders as he guides them out of the building and far enough away that Tommy won’t hear them talk. 

Wilbur’s fury and pain festers as he walks, but at the very least he won’t blow up anywhere near Tommy.

The second Phil’s hand is off his shoulder, Wilbur turns sharply to meet Techno, who seems entirely unfazed by Wilbur’s ruffled feathers and deep scowl. “What the hell, Techno! What the fuck was that?!” He yells, and Techno opens his mouth to reply, only to be sharply cut off by Wilbur as he continues. “We can’t just leave him, he’s a kid! We need to be there for him, he needs us.”

”I think what he needs is a moment to _breathe,_ Wilbur,” Techno replies, his tone sharp with what Wilbur can’t seem to recognize as forced monotony. “We weren’t helping by just standin’ around like that-“

”Then maybe we should have done more than standing around! Maybe we should have gone and tried to help him!” He steps closer to Techno, his fists clenched tightly. Phil stops him before he can get any closer, a hand on his chest that urges him not to take one more step forwards and knock some emotion on to Techno’s face- 

Wilbur is a man who fights with his words, usually. These are by no means usual circumstances. 

“We did do something. We left, like he wanted us.” Techno answers, his eyebrows furrowing just slightly as he looks up at Wilbur. There’s nothing about Will that even remotely intimidates him, but damn it, Techno would have preferred to be the taller of the two. If only for the chance that maybe it wouldn’t feel like Wilbur was looking down on him right now.

“He’s a child, Techno. He doesn’t know what he wants.” Wilbur scoffs, and that churns something in Techno, something that the man forces away as quickly as he’s able to. His expression is flat and unamused as he asks Wilbur,

”Is that why you let him join a war?”

There is nothing that Phil could have done to prevent Wilbur from lunging forward, his fist swinging and colliding with Techno's cheek.

Techno makes no move to stop him, his hand coming up to touch the point of contact as Phil grabs Will by his shoulders and pulls him back. "That's enough you two- _stop it."_ Phil chastises, doing his best to keep Wilbur from launching himself at Techno, even as his golden wings beat and thrash. He waits it out, holds Wilbur until the man is panting against him, chest heaving and wings too exhausted to put up a struggle. Neither of them can look the other in the eyes, and Phil huffs, exasperated. 

There’s a moment where none of them talk, tense as they all try to regain their bearings. The first one to recover is Techno, and when he opens his mouth, Phil sends him a cautionary glare. “Will, Tommy’s old enough to know what he wants. We need to respect that.” Techno explains, his voice dry, almost completely blank as he talks to Wilbur. 

Techno is nonchalant, sure, but the way his voice comes out is almost hollow. His hand hasn’t come away from his cheek just yet. 

“You’re already in a war, Will,” Phil adds, his voice soft and cautious, comforting. Though right now, Wilbur doesn’t think he deserves it at all. “You can’t just back out. But we can work to put an end to it.”

Wilbur thinks, wordless. Phil’s right, and so is Techno, but he’s starting to feel exactly as he had when Tommy pushed him away in the room. It’s this sensation that just feels _wrong,_ a woven mess of grief and guilt and regret. He doesn’t want to feel like that, he doesn’t- but, at the same time, he feels he deserves it. He knows he deserves it. 

“Do you think- Do you think his wings’ll come back?” He asks, and the silence is enough of an answer, Phil’s hand squeezing his shoulder just so. 

“I don’t know.” Phil answers grimly, and Wilbur can feel Phil’s wing extending, draping across his back in a protective sort of hug. It makes his stomach drop, that woven knot of ugly and terrible settling like a stone. He nods, understanding, then looks up to see his brother. 

Sometimes Wilbur forgets he’s older than Techno.

He remembers it easily though when he sees Techno still holding his cheek. They make eye contact, and with some reluctance, Techno drops his hand, and Wilbur feels terrible for the still red mark that’s blossomed on his face. “I’m sorry,” Wilbur starts, and Techno shrugs dismissively, like it isn’t a big deal. Wilbur feels that it is. “Are you- Are you alright?”

”I mean, you punched me, so...” He answers, trailing off for a second. Wilbur feels just awful as Techno averts his eyes, though it lightens just slightly when Techno meets his eye again. “Yeah, I’m good. You _really_ need to learn how to throw a punch.”

There’s a small bit of relief in Wilbur’s system as he breathes out a small, “Fuck off.” Techno’s lip quirks up just slightly, and that alone makes Wilbur feel a bit better. “Actually, that’s something I wanted you to help us with.” It’s at that Techno quirks a brow, prompting Wilbur to continue. “Up until now, we’ve been fighting with our words, demanding our freedom from Dream’s land. But clearly,” He says, his words turning bitter and his brow furrowing. “They don’t have any respect for that.

”We’ve gone without armor and weapons this whole war, and to be honest, we really lack training. Our best fighter was Tommy, but...” He trails off, and he can feel the air between them grow a little more tense. He quickly continues. “But he’s out of commission for the time being. The only other person to have sort of fighting experience is Tubbo, if I’m being honest. If we’re going to win this war, we’re going to need more than a few choice words.” He pauses, his voice stern as he speaks again a few seconds later. 

“I will not allow our blood to be the only blood shed.”

Techno hums in what Wilbur assumes is agreement, then adds, “Violent revolution, huh?” Wilbur nods, and catches the murderous glint in Techno’s eye as he gives a sly smile. “I’m in."

”Same,” Phil adds, and Wilbur turns his head to look at him. Phil’s expression is one of dark intent, and Wilbur almost startles at it before Phil seems to realize and quickly compose himself. “Well, maybe not for the violent revolution part, but I’m down. I want to help you guys.”

”Fantastic,” Wilbur says, a small smile on his face as he looks to the both of them. He’s a bit relieved they’ve agreed to help him- Techno is definitely something to be feared in battle, and Phil is no different. They are strong and dedicated, and, most importantly, they are trusted and loyal. “We can take today to just settle in and get used to everything, but tomorrow, we need to start gathering resources and training for combat. Phil, Tubbo can help you with that, while Techno and I can get to work on training.”

”What about Tommy?”

Will turns his head to look at Techno a bit more clearly, finding the man as hard to read as ever. Wilbur thinks on it, then sighs. “I don’t think I want him fighting anymore. You’re right, he needs time.“ He answers, and something pulls at his chest. _Tommy’s probably going to want to keep fighting,_ Wilbur realizes, a bit of protective disapproval setting in. He doesn’t think he could stop Tommy if he tried.   
  
“We should probably go talk to him about it. We have a lot to talk about.” Wilbur murmurs, earning a nod from Philza at his side. Techno shoots him a look, uncertain, but Phil speaks up in agreement. 

“It’s been a while since we stepped out here. We should at least go in to check on him.” He says, and after a second of consideration, Techno gives in with a nod. The air between them is thick as they head back towards the medical tent, Wilbur’s hand finding its place on Techno’s shoulder. He feels his brother’s shoulder tense, then relax, Wilbur giving him a small squeeze of reassurance as they head back to Tommy’s room. 


	8. Chapter 8

Some time has passed before Tommy hears a knock at his door. He figures it's probably his family, a sort of grimace coming across his face as he sighs, going to answer the door. The look changes almost entirely as he does, though, melting away as his eyes meet Tubbo’s. 

“Hey Tommy.” Tubbo greets, a small smile on his face as he does. He shifts awkwardly in place, a few flowers collected in his hand. It makes something warm in Tommy’s chest, and at this point, that’s the one of the only really pleasant feelings he’s had all day. That and when he and Tubbo had been laughing earlier, hugging each other so tightly it could have ended them _both_ up in the medical tent. 

With all the emotions that Tommy’s been fighting today, this isn’t one he’s going to turn down. 

Tubbo’s saying something that Tommy isn’t quite paying attention to, not when he reaches out and pulls Tubbo back into his arms, hugging him close again. Tubbo shifts in his arms, confused, but quickly gives in and rests his head against Tommy’s shoulder. It pulls a shuddering breath from Tommy, and he wishes he could stay like that forever- the feeling in his chest warm and pleasant. 

Tubbo hums, then takes a few steps, Tommy moving with him as Tubbo brings him back near the hospital bed. He twists in Tommy’s arms, but makes no move to leave his hold, even as he inspects the blood covered bedding. “Give me a second Tommy, alright?” Tubbo murmurs, his voice soft as he begins peeling away the sheets and blanket, piling them up on one of the chairs. 

Tommy really doesn’t want to let go, but he knows he has to- just for a moment. He does, and even though Tubbo smiles appreciatively, Tommy’s skin grows immediately cold. Tubbo works quickly, opening a cabinet over by the brewing stand and pulling out fresh bedding. He sets it up on the bed, then takes Tommy’s arm as he guides him back towards the bed.   
  
Tommy complies easily, grateful as Tubbo pulls him back into his arms without question, the two of them now resting on a clean hospital bed. It takes Tommy a moment of shifting to get his back as comfortable as he’s gonna get it, but when he does, it’s the most at ease he’s been for a while.

They stay like that for god knows how long, not even pulling away as the door to the room creaks open again. Tubbo lifts his head to look at who’s entered, but Tommy quickly tugs him back, something that Tubbo's fine to comply to. 

“Tubbo, what are you doing here?” Wilbur asks, his voice sounding soft but confused. Tommy looks over and sees his hand on Techno’s shoulder, a bright mark blossoming on Techno’s cheek. He sees Phil standing just slightly to the side, a pleasantly warm look on his expression as he sees them. There’s something sad to it that Tommy doesn’t want to try and unpack. 

“I told Tommy I would come back.” Is Tubbo’s answer, the boy shifting in Tommy’s arms so that he can look at Wilbur. The words cause Tommy’s breath to hitch and his chest to swell, but he quickly sets that aside in favor of giving Tubbo a little squeeze. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Wilbur, who’s expression shifts, care and reluctance finding its way on to his face.

“It’s your day off, you know.” Wilbur says, and his words are carefully chosen, as they nearly always are. He feels Tubbo nod against his chest. 

“Yeah, I know.”

That settles it. Wilbur nods, then steps further into the room, allowing the others to do the same. It’s a little crowded, Tommy thinks, but he’s not about to protest it. It was crowded before too, the only difference is now he has Tubbo with him, and he feels a bit better because of it. Wilbur stands close to the bed, or at least closer than he had been, opting to give Tommy and Tubbo a little bit of space. 

“Tommy, how are you feeling?” Wilbur asks, and Tommy’s not entirely sure how to answer. He gives Wilbur a shrug; he’s not going to say he’s fine, because he really, really isn’t, but he’s doing better than he was before. He isn’t focusing on the grief or the guilt, he’s focusing on just how nice it is to be near his friend. Wilbur doesn’t press him more on that, and instead changes his phrasing as he asks, “How is your back?”

The joints roll subconsciously at their mention, and it causes Tommy’s jaw to clench just slightly. “Still sensitive,” He answers, his voice a little quiet and raspy from his vomiting. He clears his throat, getting rid of the muddled sensation before he speaks again. “It- It hurt, before.” He admits, and then, just a little quieter, “I didn’t know they were gone.”

There’s a pause in the room that Tommy can’t decide if he’s grateful for or loathes, but Tubbo gives him a comforting squeeze, his hand finding a place in Tubbo's hair. It’s nice. 

“Tommy,” Wilbur starts, his tone making it sound like the start of a question he’s too nervous to really get out. Tommy looks towards him expectantly, not missing the way Wilbur’s wings flick anxiously, or the way his hands fidget with his coat. “Can you- Can you tell me what happened to you?” He asks, and Tommy’s stomach churns a little at that. Wilbur must pick up on it, because he quickly continues, spitting out his reasoning. “Tubbo found you outside our walls, and while I sort of have an idea of what happened, I want to know what happened exactly.”

The mention of Tubbo makes Tommy’s eyebrows furrow and his lips pull into a tight frown, even more so as Tubbo shifts in his arms, giving Tommy a more apologetic look. _Tubbo really shouldn’t be the one apologizing here,_ Tommy thinks, his arms giving Tubbo another small squeeze before he looks back up to Wilbur. He thinks over his phrasing for a moment or two, and then takes another to even build up the courage to speak, imaginary hands clasped around his throat like a vice. His words come out appropriately choked, almost a whisper. 

“I-I wanted to go spy on them, maybe get some resources or information,” He starts, and his voice trails off into silence, his breathing a little uneven. He sucks in a breath of air to continue. “They got me, though, a-and... and they gave me a- a choice.” Theres a pause, and Tubbo holds him a little tighter, and it’s only then that he realizes he’s shaking a little. He stiffens, a failed attempt at reassuring Tubbo that he’s okay, then forces himself to keep going. “They were going to kill all of us and take our resources, if I didn’t. So I... I agreed.”

There’s an uneasy silence in the room, and Tommy can see the anger begin to build in Wilbur again. He’s relieved when it’s Phil who speaks first, his voice even as he processes the information. His wings are slightly puffed up, but Phil is collected as he speaks. “So he threatened you, and took your wings as a- as a price for not killing you all?” Phil asks, and Tommy nods. He swears he feels his wing twitch, biting back the noise that wants to crawl out of his throat as the joint rolls awkwardly against the pillow. 

“Tommy...” Wilbur starts, but he can’t find the words to end the sentence. Tommy hates how pitying and upset Wilbur’s voice sounds, the frustration in his expression. Tommy speaks before Will can continue. 

“It’s not like he wasn’t going to kill me if I said no. I died either way,” Tommy points out, and his tone is much more defensive than he thought it would be- almost agitated. “The only difference was that you guys would be okay, and we’d have our resources. We’d have a chance.” He chokes a little on the word, and pauses for a moment, feeling the joints on his back roll once more. It’s uncomfortable and entirely too sensitive, and Tommy shifts a little in place to adjust. “I didn’t know they wouldn’t come back.”

Wilbur seems to understand this a bit more, even with the frustration he has at the situation. He’s angry, now, as he pieces together a rough timeline in his head, imagining Dream and his crew presenting Tommy with a choice- well, not really a choice. A threat. Dream and his crew threatening Tommy and then leaving him to die as they steal his prized possessions. He’s never once thought of Dream as an honorable man, but now he hardly considers him a man at all. 

He’s scum, is what he is. 

“Tommy, I want you to take some time off from fighting,” Wilbur instructs, and it twists something awfully in Tommy’s stomach. Wilbur must notice, because he continues, his voice stern and dark. “Your joints are still sensitive and will take some getting used to. Philza and Techno are going to be assisting us and training us for battle. Once you are ready, you can come join us, but until then, I want you to take time off.”

Tommy feels absolutely terrible at that, his breath going short and a cold rush washing over him. The guilt pokes through again, an anxious feeling working it’s way into his system, nearly forcing him into a panic. When he speaks again, it must show, because he can see the saddened look in Wilbur’s eyes. “W-Wilbur, please-“

”That is an order from your general, Tommy.” 

Wilbur’s voice is stern and unyielding. He’s always been a man of his words. It’s cold and shocking, but Tommy swallows, Tubbo's hand squeezing his own in comfort. 

“Yes sir.”


	9. Chapter 9

Not even a full week after the arrival of Philza and Techno, nearly the entirety of L’manburgh is outfitted with armor and weaponry. It’s impressive and a little frightening, really, and Wilbur has Techno, Phil, and Tubbo to thank for it. Following Wilbur’s orders for Tommy to rest and heal, he’d tried doing the same with Tubbo, ordering the kid to have some down time. But try as he might, Tubbo wouldn’t obey him, putting up as much effort as he could towards the war.

In the end, Wilbur isn’t sure whether he should be frustrated, thankful, or impressed.

It’s incredible how much Tubbo has done. He leaps at nearly every opportunity to go mining with Philza, and when he’s done, he comes back and trains with Techno until Techno decides to stop. Until Techno can see the way Tubbo's arms shake with exertion; until he can see Tubbo's eyelids threatening to shut mid combat. And from there, as he’s dismissed, he always plucks up some sort of flower and makes his way to the medical tent. To Tommy’s room.

Phil has not only been helping gathering resources, but also specifically outfitting L’manburgh with enchanted armor and spare resources. Wilbur has never donned armor for multiple reasons: he prefers to fight with his words, and aside from that, he doesn’t really know how to fight. But one of the issues Wilbur has always had with armor has been his wings.

For the flight tactics Wilbur had been practicing with Tommy during the beginnings of the war, clunky armor was simply impractical. So it became more of an honor thing, than anything. After all, it wasn’t exactly fair for a group of people in full netherite to be attacking the unarmored. It would be dishonorable. 

Dream has proven again and again that he doesn’t care about honor.

Phil has apparently figured out a way to craft the armor without inhibiting their wings. It’s uncomfortable and heavy when Wilbur first puts it on, but Phil is a good teacher, and Wilbur learns quickly enough how to maneuver in the armor. He can even fly in it, which is as impressive as it is exhausting. He can’t fly in it for too long- not even Techno is capable of flying in it for more than a certain amount of time. But it’s better than what they had. 

Finally, it’s Techno who ends up teaching Wilbur and the rest how to fight. He teaches Wilbur a bit more regarding arial combat, while also going out of his way to teach Tubbo and Fundy a bit more on field combat. Wilbur hasn’t quite picked it up the best, but Tubbo is an incredibly fast learner, to the point where he starts giving Techno tips on how to fight better once he’s on the ground. It’s amusing, watching the boy stop after a round of combat to excitedly give Techno a few pointers, and it makes Wilbur all the more proud. 

Still, there is a slight tension running through the lands. Neither territory has attacked or invaded the other in a while. Nobody has gone to check on L’manburgh, and no one from L’manburgh has gone to check on the Dream SMP. The time of peace is equal parts calming and concerning, and Wilbur makes an effort to stay on his toes. 

It’s evening of the fourth day since Techno and Philza’s arrival, as Tubbo swings a wooden sword towards Wilbur. Wilbur sucks in a breath and quickly takes a step backwards, only for Tubbo to step forwards, hitting the wooden sword against the front of his chest plate. It doesn’t do anything, really- they’re only training -but if Tubbo’s sword had been replaced by the one Dream wields, things would not have ended the same.

Wilbur sighs as he meets Tubbo’s eyes, seeing the bright smile come from the kid. He sets the sword down, beaming as he approaches Wilbur excitedly. “Good job, you did really good!” He compliments, and it nearly makes Wilbur flustered by the situation. He can understand why Techno would always make a face when he was on the receiving end of this. It felt strange.

“But you shouldn’t try to walk backwards when I hit you- at least not fully. There’s a distance where you can’t hit me, but I can hit you, and you really don’t want to be there. If you are, try to block with your shield, or turn and run until you can get out of it.” Tubbo lectures, going on a small ramble as he explains to Wilbur where and how he messed up. Wilbur nods, and something uncomfortable twists in his stomach, and before he can really go to question it, he hears footsteps running up to him.

Fundy quickly makes his way to Wilbur’s side, a little winded. Recently, Fundy has been assigned both to the medical tent as well as to a post at the front gate. He had been assigned there after Tommy had managed to escape the medical tent and had tried to catch up to Philza and Tubbo, only to be stopped by Fundy chasing him down. That had been a day or two prior.

Now, though, there’s a worried look in Wilbur’s eye as Fundy stands at his side, still panting when Wilbur asks him, “What is it, Fundy?”

”Dream.” Fundy answers, the name coming out on a single breath. It causes Wilbur’s eyebrows to raise and his eyes to widen, his expression falling. It only gets worse as Fundy continues. “George and Sapnap too. They wanted to see you.”

Wilbur hesitates for just a second, then nods curtly, his hand falling to the sword at his side. “Let’s go. Tubbo, get Techno and Phil, and have them meet us near the gate.” Wilbur instructs, and he looks back to see Tubbo nod, heading off to go gather Wilbur’s family. Will sighs, and makes his way back to the front gate with Fundy, a cold chill settling into his system. 

Wilbur feels three sets of eyes on him as he comes into view of their opponents. George has a flat expression, jaw set and eyebrows furrowed as he watches Wilbur’s approach. Sapnap is nearly a direct counter, a wide grin spreading across his face as he watches, a near maniacal glint in his eye. However, it’s Dream, expression unreadable behind the mask that has Wilbur’s wings puffing up large. That red feather still hangs proudly against his chest. Like a medal. 

“Wilbur,” Dream greets, and the sickly sweet friendship in his voice is disgusting. Wilbur’s jaw is clenched as he stands there, tall, his wings extending to make him seem even larger. If it has any affect on Dream, he can’t tell. “Weapons and armor, huh? Whatever happened to fighting with your words?” He asks coyly, and if not for the fact that they stand currently out-geared and outnumbered, he would have had his sword embedded in Dream’s chest.

“I have no more words left for people like you.” Wilbur answers, his voice low and stern as he speaks. Perhaps one on one, Dream would be easier to read, but when he’s stood between Sapnap and George, it’s near impossible. The two are polar opposites in terms of reaction, and it leaves Dream somewhere in the middle of two intensities. It doesn’t become easier even when Dream speaks again. 

“I would hope you have enough for a treaty of surrender.” Dream muses, and Wilbur’s eye nearly twitches at just how smug Dream sounds. As if he’s backed Wilbur into a corner like an injured dog. As if the gun he’s about to fire is a mercy. Wilbur says nothing, sticking true to his word, at least for now. If Dream is bothered at all by it, it doesn’t show, and he continues. “If you surrender now, you will have a place in the Dream SMP. And,” Dream adds, tilting his head slightly towards George, who reaches into his pack and pulls out a disc.   
  
Mellohi. 

“Tommy can have his boring disc back.”

Wilbur has to process the offer for a second before he becomes absolutely furious, his eyes absolutely filled with rage as he looks into the eyes of the mask. It does nothing but make him more frustrated, absolutely enraged by what Dream must consider a decent trade. He takes a step forwards, his wings puffing and extending fully, his eyes trained on that stupid fucking mask-

Before he gets the chance to speak, Sapnap yelps at Dream’s side, an arrow sticking through his side. Wilbur glances at him quick enough to see his hand already clutching his sword, his reaction time just a little too slow to prevent him from fully dodging the swing of Tubbo’s sword, netherite clashing with the blow.

Wilbur sees movement out of his peripheral, and instinctively jumps backward diagonally, missing the swing of Dream’s axe. He takes the opportunity to draw his sword, blocking the second attack with his shield before retaliating with a swing of his sword, hitting Dream against his upper arm. 

Wilbur distantly recognizes that Fundy’s caught up in the fight too, his own sword drawn and barely parrying George’s own, the metal of the sword catching on his shoulder. He takes his attention off of that though as Dream once again attempts to hit him, his axe slamming roughly against Will’s shoulder, slicing down just enough to make Wilbur grit his teeth and groan. 

Then, a few things happen. 

An arrow whizzes passed Wilbur’s shoulder, nicking the top of Dream’s mask before deflecting up passed his head. There’s a visible crack in it now, part of the porcelain chipped, and as Wilbur tries to take a second to process it, he hears a stuttering gasp from his right. He turns his head, eyes wide at the sight of Tubbo’s sword swinging, piercing through Sapnap’s stomach as the man clutches at his neck. Blood seeps through his fingers.

A faint white glow is beginning to cover the entirety of his body. It catches everyone off guard, and Wilbur hardly notices that the skirmish has stopped, his attention fully devoted to the sight before him. Tubbo is breathing heavily, his eyes narrowed as he twists the sword in Sapnap’s stomach, resulting in a terrible squelching sound and a wet gasp, the man coughing and sputtering up his own blood.

His body begins to fizzle and glow, brighter and brighter until all that’s left is his armor, hollow on the ground as the glowing dust slowly drifts back into Dream SMP territory. Wilbur is shocked by it, eyes following the dust as it idly floats back, drifting further and further away. His attention is only brought back by Dream, the man speaking through what Wilbur thinks is probably gritted teeth. 

“You will have white flags outside your walls by dawn in three days time. Or there will be no mercy for you.” Dream hisses, and, with a distant twinge of amusement, Wilbur thinks he rather likes the crack split down Dream’s mask. It adds character. Dream’s head twitches as Wilbur admires the work done, and Wilbur glances back over his shoulder, catching Techno and Phil’s gaze. Phil’s holding a crossbow, another arrow knocked and raised at Dream. 

When he looks back to Dream, the man has taken a few steps back, and George is at his side- his glasses are cracked similarly to Dream’s mask, the left lens damaged. George has picked up Sapnap’s things, leaving nothing for them to scavenge, his expression tight and angry as he stares at them. Dream is panting as he yells now, loud enough for Phil and Techno to hear as well. 

“White flags outside your walls within three days, or you’re all dead!”

There is no movement in L’manburgh, no response, and Dream gives a small huff, back straightening as he storms off, George at his side. It’s once they make it to the pathway, the only sound within the walls being their heavy breathing, that Wilbur comes to a realization. Tubbo voices it before Will can quite find the words. 

“Did- Did we just win our first battle-?”

After a small moment, Wilbur tensely nods. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sapnap was slain by Tubbo_.
> 
> Extra EXTRA long chapter for today. Things are going to get a little intense now, and I’m honestly really proud of how far this has come. This is the first successful multichaptered fic I’ve done that should end in a way that feels satisfying. Thank you guys so much for the support, it’s been incredible. Now, let’s kick things into high gear.


	10. Chapter 10

To Eret’s credit, he’s been a little busy constructing his castle.

He hasn’t been all that involved in the ongoings of the Dream SMP or L’manburgh in the time since his betrayal, instead spending his time collecting resources and building a wonderful piece of architecture. He hasn’t been sleeping much during the castle’s construction, and once it’s finally done, he takes an incredibly long rest. It’s peaceful, and quiet. Or, at least it is up until someone comes knocking at his door, waking him up. 

Eret wakes with a small groan, sitting up in the bed and tidying himself up a little bit, crown resting nicely atop his head when he answers the door. Punz is on the other side, and Eret isn’t all too sure how to react to that. They definitely have not had much interaction with each other, so Eret isn’t sure how to speak to the man. Punz’s expression is even as he tells Eret, “Dream called for a meeting at the community house, to discuss attacks on L’manburgh.”

Eret’s eyebrows raise, a little startled that he would be brought to a meeting, considering how little involvement he’s had since he’d left L’manburgh.

“It’s a requirement for everyone aligned with the Dream SMP.” 

“Ah.” Eret answers, and his expression immediately falls back to neutral. His stomach gains this fluttery feeling, a bad one, but he pushes it down and keeps his expression neutral. If there was a meeting to be had involving everyone in the Dream SMP, discussing L’manburgh, then it wasn’t going to be a battle. No- it was more likely to be a massacre. 

The smile Eret puts on his face feels plastic. “Alright then. Well, lead the way.” He says, and Punz nods, beginning to guide Eret back to the community house. They walk along the wooden pathway, no words exchanged between them as they go, and it only serves to make that fluttery feeling in Eret’s stomach worse. The only noise present is one that happens as they get closer to the house itself, the loud drone of Mellohi coming from inside. 

Eret wonders how they managed to get that. 

They enter the house and find a table set up, battle plans strewn across it and people sat around them. Dream sits at the head of the table, George to his left and Sapnap to his right. The three of them look furious, eyes narrowed as they take in the map. Eret can’t help but notice the crack in Dream’s mask, as well as the feather that hangs lowly from his neck. It makes him uneasy, and he becomes even more so when he sits down in his chair. 

Dream looks up to meet his gaze, and Eret hopes nothing is in his expression when he sees that the crack runs down the center of Dream’s mask, a thin line spidering down to his chin. “King Eret,” Dream greets, though there is nothing welcoming or kind about the words. The way he says “king” almost sounds taunting. “I’m glad you could make it. I know you’ve been busy with the construction of your castle.”

”I have been.” Eret answers simply, his voice even. He uses his time to inspect the others, to try and gain a read on what could have possibly warranted this meeting. George’s glasses are cracked in one lens, his eyebrows furrowed and jaw set as he stares at Eret just the same. It’s unsettling, and if not for Mellohi playing from the jukebox in the corner, Eret’s sure the tension would have been unbearable.

Dream speaks again, his voice strong and commanding, bringing Eret’s attention back to him. “This meeting has been called to discuss our attack on L’manburgh tomorrow evening.” Dream explains, gesturing to the map before him. “They have called in reinforcements, so we need all the man power we can get. We don’t know what tricks they could bring to the battlefield.”

Eret hums, and as Dream leans down to begin scrawling across the map they have, Eret’s eyes catch something just over his shoulder. He half listens to Dream as he explains their plan, and half tries to glance over Dream’s shoulder as inconspicuously as he is able to. He’s stopped by Dream asking him, “What are your thoughts, Eret?”

His tone is stern, a silent fury lacing through each of his words as he speaks. It runs Eret cold, and he feels as if he’s been caught doing something he probably shouldn’t have. He doesn’t let it show on his face, humming as he steps up from his chair and moves so that he’s closer to Dream, so that he can get a better vantage point on the map. There’s circles and lines that suggest a flanking position on L’manburgh, avoiding the main entrance and instead targeting the walls.

“This will probably work.” Eret says, and when he turns to face Dream, he lets his gaze focus instead on where he’d been looking before. He nearly chokes on air at the sight, immediately breaking out in a cold sweat once he sees it. 

Eret thought he recognized the feather from somewhere. 

Mounted on the wall like some sort of trophy are a pair of large, red feathered wings. It’s horrifying and chilling, and Eret’s brain quickly works out the implications of their presence. He almost feels nauseous, stomach churning as everything crashes into him. When he redirects his attention back to Dream, forcing his gaze away from the severed limbs, Dream has this focused, stern look to him. 

Eret’s eyes glance over to the wings periodically for the rest of the meeting. 

He comes back late at night, when nobody is awake. He makes sure his footsteps fall lightly, carefully stepping in to the community house. He holds a lantern as he does, but it’s covered by a heavy cloth, blocking out the harshest bits of it’s light. There’s nobody around to find him, but even then, Eret is careful as he moves. 

The door to the community house clicks open, and Eret looks around, making sure nobody is nearby. When he doesn’t see anyone, he takes a quick breath and steps inside, slowly making his way towards the wall where the wings are mounted. He shivers just looking at them, his hand shaky as he reaches out and touches the feathers. His hand recoils back suddenly, his stomach churning terribly.

There’s no way the wings could have twitched. 

Eret lets his breathing even, slightly shaky still. The air is tense around him, and once he finally works up the courage, he reaches up, and takes Tommy’s wings off the wall. It feels so wrong to even be holding them. Eret makes quick work of setting them in his pack- they stick out a bit at the top, but as long as he doesn’t get caught, he’s fine. He turns, just about ready to leave, until his eyes land on a jukebox in the corner. His breath catches, and with a new conviction, he steps over to it, plucking the disc from inside. 

He needs to move quickly. 

He runs, out of the community house and down the pathway, holding the pack close to him like a lifeline. He supposes it is now, his heart pounding against his chest as he makes his way through the hill and towards L’manburgh grounds. His breath catches in his throat at the sight of it, his stomach churning with nerves, but he bites it back and runs to where he knows the main gait is. He freezes in place at the sight of netherite armor, squeezing the pack close to him and squinting his eyes shut.

 _He’s dead,_ _he’s dead, he’s dead-_

“...Eret-?”

Eret opens his eyes after a second, panting heavily as he looks up, and sees not George or Sapnap or Punz or _Dream-_ but he sees Fundy, donned in armor and standing at the gates to L’manburgh. Eret doesn’t think he can speak, and even if he could, he doesn’t know what to say to Fundy. What _can_ he say? 

Fundy looks just as relieved as Eret is, but his expression quickly shifts, his eyebrows furrowing and a tight frown crossing his lips. “What are you doing here, Eret?” He asks, his words quiet and- and maybe _not_ angry. It’s hurt is what it is, and it makes Eret’s chest tighten again. He wonders if there’s even a chance for him here. He’s practically a dead man walking. There’s no home for him in the Dream SMP anymore. But when he looks at Fundy, he wonders, if maybe he might have had a home here.

”I-I need...” He starts, trailing off as he feels the pack shift in his arms, his eyes widening as he feels it. It’s horrifying and scary but he _feels_ it. He looks up, and Fundy must have noticed the same twitching, his mouth agape as he stares at it. “Fundy, I need you to get Wilbur, please. We don’t have much time.”

Fundy stares at him, the shock in his eyes shifting to distrust, his jaw clenching and his eyebrows furrowing. He holds up a lantern and squints, listening for footsteps, looking through the tree line to see if this could possibly be a trap. Eret wants to start pleading with him, wants to start apologizing if it means he can earn Fundy’s trust back. His castle has kept him busy, but it hits him as he catches the hurt in Fundy’s expression. He’s missed them. 

“Wait out here.”

Eret sighs with relief when Fundy says that, a small sort of smile tracing his lips. Fundy doesn’t look any less suspicious or upset, but he does manage to meet Eret’s eyes for a second. He looks, then scoffs, his eyes diverting to the grass. “It’s... It’s good to see you again.” He murmurs, and before Eret can even fully begin to process the twisting feeling in his chest, Fundy is off, heading into L’manburgh. 

Eret smiles as he stands there, still catching his breath as he watches Fundy as far as he is able to. 

“You too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eret redemption arc pog?? 
> 
> I figured chapter ten would be a good chapter to finally put the “Eret” tag on this fic to some fucking use. This little plot point has been in the works for a while now, and I’m so happy to finally reveal it.


	11. Chapter 11

When Wilbur meets Eret by the gate, he is fully armored and accompanied by Phil and Fundy. He finds Eret alone, unarmored, clutching something to his chest. His eyes narrow in distrust, and he looks around the man to see if there’s anybody lurking in the hills, watching them and waiting to strike.

Wilbur had convinced himself that he was over Eret’s betrayal, but as he sees the man now, it feels like a fresh wound. 

“What do you want, _Eret.”_ Wilbur spits, and it comes out like less of a question and more of a threat. He knows Phil’s hand is on his crossbow, already preloaded in case someone decides to attack them. Phil’s hand is steady still, and Eret glances between them, before deciding to focus his gaze on Wilbur. He looks a little startled by them, and Wilbur feels a small sense of pride by it, his wings puffing up and opening out to enhance that feeling. 

“Wilbur,” Eret says, and he pauses, trying to figure out where to start. Wilbur’s eyebrows furrow at him, impatient, and Eret finds something to say quickly after that. “You have every right to not trust me or to not allow me back into L’manburgh,” He says, and his voice almost sounds desperate. Far from the cool composure he used to have. “But I have a few things that need to be returned to their rightful owner.”

Will’s eyes narrow at that, and Eret takes a careful step forwards, one that has Wilbur’s hand on his sword and Phil raising the crossbow preemptively. Eret hesitates at that, but swallows, stepping forward slowly and carefully until he’s about arm’s length from Wilbur. He doesn’t speak as he holds out his pack, and Wilbur’s eyes widen at the bit of red poking out the top. 

He glances between the bag and Eret’s face, finding none of the cool concealment Eret had seemed so happy to utilize in their betrayal. Instead, he sees such strong emotion, a mix of fear and determination. So, Wilbur takes the pack, then steps backwards to open it up. 

“You don’t have to let me back in,” Eret says, and it doesn’t give Wilbur time to process the fact that he just got handed Tommy’s wings- cleanly severed and stored in the bag. He looks up from the pack, staring at Eret with complete shock, and Eret takes that as a sign to continue. “But I’m a dead man in the Dream SMP now, and I have information that may be useful to you. And... And I’m sorry.”

The last part comes out quietly, and that is quite possibly what startles Wilbur the most- that someone like Eret would feel any ounce of regret. Eret’s a good actor, and while Wilbur doesn’t trust him at all, he’d like to think that Eret’s being genuine here. 

Still, on the chance he isn’t, Wilbur turns to Phil. “Philza, take Eret to an empty room in the medical tent. Have Techno watch over him, and then meet Fundy and I in the van.” He orders, and Phil nods. Wilbur glances over to Fundy, who’s still looking to Eret, expression twisted with hurt and distrust. Fundy and Eret had been close, before. He wonders what they are now.

“Fundy.” The man in question startles as his name is said, turning his head to look at Wilbur, like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. Wilbur keeps his voice stern as he instructs Fundy again. “With me, now.”

”R-Right, on it.” Fundy answers, and Wilbur begins to walk away, Fundy hesitating for just a second before catching up to him. He stands just behind Wilbur as the two approach the hto dog van, walking through the front door and then to the back. The area is well illuminated as Wilbur reaches into the pack, carefully pulling out a pair of large red wings, setting them down on the table. Along with the wings is Tommy’s disc.

The two do nothing but stare at the wings for a moment, until Fundy reaches out, his hand slow as he touches the top part of the wing, lifting it up for inspection. Wilbur isn’t sure if it’s a trick of the eyes or if Fundy sees it too, but the end of the wing almost seems to twitch at his touch. 

“Fundy,” Wilbur calls again, and this time, the man in question does not meet his gaze. His ears twitch in a way that shows Wilbur he’s paying attention though, so Wilbur continues, his voice slightly strained as he talks. “Do you think- Do you think we could reattach them?”

Fundy gives a noncommittal hum, now inspecting the other wing, which twitches just the same as the first one. “I don’t know, Wilbur,” Fundy answers, his voice focused and calculating. “The bone is all there, which means they must have used a regeneration potion to preserve them. But,” Fundy’s hand swipes over the base of a wing, and it extends in response, a thing that makes Wilbur feel absolutely sick. “When we used them to speed up Tommy’s respawn, the nerve endings worked to compensate. Reattaching them could risk making them completely useless.”

”So a surgery is impossible? He’s just going to have to live like that?” Wilbur asks, frustrated and almost pained by the idea. His hands clench against the table, doing nothing to relieve the stress he feels. 

“It’s not impossible, Wilbur. It’s just risky. I’m not even that skilled of a surgeon, I don’t know,” Fundy says, and his voice is quick and bordering a ramble. Will can’t even begin to imagine what thoughts must be running through his head. “We’d have to pop the bone back into the socket, and work to make sure each nerve ending aligns to restore feeling and movement to the wings. I don’t know if I can really do that with what I have available.”

There’s a pause, anxious and quiet, broken by the sound of the van door opening. It clicks shut, and a few seconds later, Phil opens the door, stepping into the room. He looks between Wilbur and Fundy, then down to the table, his eyes widening at the sight of Tommy’s wings. 

“Philza,” Wilbur asks, lifting his head and looking towards his father figure with a near painful desperation. He wants this to work- he doesn’t want Tommy to have to keep going like he is. He doesn’t want to be the one responsible for his younger brother’s mutilation and scarring. “Do you think there’s any way we can reattach them?” Phil pauses for a second, and then looks to Fundy, who answers,

”Will and I were considering a surgery, but with how the nerves healed during respawning, it could risk paralyzation of his wings and back.”   
  
Phil considers that for a moment, then lets his hand run over the wings almost tenderly, eyes widening just slightly as he feels them react just slightly to his touch. There’s a silence in the room for a good minute or so, and then, Phil gives an answer. “What if we tried reattaching them while he was respawning?” He asks, and Wilbur looks up to meet Philza’s gaze, eyes wide at the suggestion.

“I don’t think they’ll respawn with him if we kill him away from a bed, since his body has already adapted to not having wings. But, if we kill him before the surgery, maybe we could reattach them in a way that’ll prevent paralysis.” He suggests, and Fundy looks up now to meet Phil’s gaze. He doesn’t say anything, he just stares, mouth slightly agape as he considers the possibility.   
  
“That... That could work.” Fundy says, but the way he says it doesn’t provide Wilbur with any relief just yet. It’s tentative, still working out the possible results. “Respawning should knit the nerves back together, and it should compensate for the reattachment. But I don’t know for sure how long it’s gonna take. He died in a bed last time and it still took him over a day to respawn. Dream should be attacking tomorrow.”

That sends chills through Wilbur’s body, and it doesn’t help that Fundy turns his head to face him, Philza following suit. He’s their general, after all- he’s supposed to be giving commands and leading them. Wilbur takes a breath, then looks between the two of them.

“About how long do you think it’s going to take?”

Phil glances between Wilbur and Fundy, and Fundy stops to consider it. “It took a while last time because of the bone damage and the fact that his wings weren’t there. The bone here seems to be completely intact, though, and if we can minimize injury,” Fundy says, hand once again touching the base of the wings, a gentle touch that avoids the more sensitive parts of it. “Anywhere between eight to twenty four hours, I think.”

Wilbur nods, taking into consideration everything presented to him. He still needs to have a talk with Eret about whatever it is the Dream team is planning, and they still need to prepare for combat tomorrow. Eventually, Wilbur sighs, looking to Fundy. “Fundy, I want you to hide these wings as best as you can, while Philza and I go interrogate Eret. After that, when Tommy wakes up, we can talk to him about the surgery.”

Fundy nods, and Wilbur takes a breath, turning to face Phil, who’s looking at him expectantly. He gives a small nod, and with that, the two of them leave the van, heading towards the medical tent. There’s a mutual silence between them, heavy but not unbearably uncomfortable, and neither one of them breaks it as they enter the building. They find the farthest room in the medical tent, then open it, seeing both Techno and Eret in the room.

Techno is stood near the door, a hand on his sword as he turns to see who’s come in, but he quickly relaxes upon seeing Wilbur and Phil. He gives them a slight smile, then steps to the side, his gaze shifting back to Eret. The man is sat on one of the chairs, pulled to the center of the room, his gaze set on the three of them. He isn’t bound by anything, but it’s clear that he wouldn’t have the best of luck if he tried running. 

“What do you know about their plans, Eret?” Wilbur asks, taking a step forwards, his wings extending a small bit in the room. He feels a small jolt of pride as he watches Eret’s head tilt up to meet his gaze, a look of anxiety tracing his features. The man takes a breath, then speaks, his voice as clear as he can make it. 

“They plan on infiltrating the walls, two people flanking while the rest go through the front to meet you. I was supposed to be one of the people at the front gate, along with George and Dream.” Eret explains, his hands fidgeting idly with the arm rests of the chair. There’s no pause in his speech, but there’s a carefulness to how he talks that Wilbur doesn’t particularly like.

“Sapnap and Punz are going to flank on either wall with crossbows, in case you guys try flying away. They have potions too- potions of lingering harm. If worse comes to worse, they were going to try bargaining your surrender with Tommy’s wings and his disc, but they didn’t think they’d need to.” 

Wilbur considers this information, eyes boring into Eret’s to find any trace of deception. It’s difficult, since Eret already seems nervous, and that makes Wilbur all the more frustrated. He takes another step closer, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. He wants to ask Eret why he betrayed them, he wants to ask Eret how he can be sure the man isn’t lying to him. Instead, he asks,

”What time are they attacking tomorrow?”

Eret swallows, and answers, his voice not quite as even as it had been before.

”Seven o’clock.”

Wilbur nods, then turns to look back between Techno and Philza. “Techno, do you have any rope?” Will asks, and it brings a slight grin from Techno, a sadistic twitch of his lips. 

“Yeah, I’m sure we have some lying around here.”

”Good,” The word is almost venomous when he says it. He doesn’t turn to see Eret’s reaction, and instead, he continues. “Bind the prisoner to the chair and then get some rest. Make sure he has no way to contact Dream or the others. After tomorrow’s fight, we can _consider_ allowing reentry to L’manburgh,” He decides, and then quickly, before Eret can get his hopes up too high, “With supervision, of course.”

Techno nods, and with that, Wilbur begins to take his leave. He can’t help his own curiosity though, and when he looks over his shoulder to make sure Phil is following him, he chances a glance at Eret. The man looks relieved, a genuinely happy smile on his face, his eyes drawn to the floor. 

The door closes gently as Wilbur shuts it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the positive feedback last chapter. It really made me so happy seeing how much you guys liked it, and like this fic. I’ve been so happy with the story, and different plot elements and themes and recurring imagery- it means so much to know you guys like it. Thank you so much for all the support. Those comments are the highlight of my day.


	12. Chapter 12

Nobody in L’manburgh rests easily that night. Each of them wakes up earlier than necessary, the nervous energy they have causing for a restless night. Still, Wilbur waits until seven o’clock in the morning to go wake up Phil and Fundy. Once he does, he brings them into Tommy’s room, finding both him and Tubbo asleep on the bed. Tubbo’s laid on the bed, and Tommy is asleep on top of him, his back up so that the sensitive joints aren’t rubbed against anything. 

Wilbur goes to shake Tubbo awake, but just as he steps closer, the boy’s eyes open and he turns his head to meet Wilbur’s gaze. He still looks tired, but he offers Wilbur a smile, one that he gladly returns. His hand instead finds a place on Tommy’s shoulder, who groans and mutters something about how he’s a “fucking asshole, waking me up, it’s still fucking early”. 

It’s more amusing than anything else, and Wilbur can’t help the slight chuckle that escapes him. 

“Tommy, wake up. We need to have a very important conversation.” Wilbur instructs, and he’s grateful for how Tubbo slowly begins to sit up in the bed, forcing Tommy to do the same. Tommy huffs, then follows suit, sitting back up and opening his eyes a little more fully. His gaze catches Fundy and Philza, a tight frown pulling at his lips, eyebrows furrowing with what is either lingering frustration or confusion.

”What’s all this about?” 

Wilbur takes a small breath, then answers. “Eret was found outside our gates last night,” Wilbur starts, and he sees the way Tommy’s eyebrow twitches, his eyes widening just slightly before narrowing. Tubbo has a similar reaction, but it’s less frustrated and more confused and concerned. “He was unarmed, and nobody was with him from what we could see. But, he had a- a _gift_ for us.”

Wilbur shifts a little awkwardly, unsure of how to even phrase it. It’s difficult, but the overwhelming curiosity and confusion in Tommy’s expression pushes him forwards, stumbling as he finds his words. “He- He had your wings. Severed.” He finally says, and Tommy’s eyes widen, a near sickly look coming across his face. “It looks like they’ve been healed a little bit, and, well, it looks like it might be possible to reattach them.”

Tommy’s shock doesn’t quite break into joy. “That’s- That’s great, Wilbur!” He says, and his voice is slightly strained, like he can’t quite believe this is true. “I-I mean, I can have my wings back. I can fly again! But...” He trails off, his hand shaking as it comes up to rub along his jaw- a habit of his. “How long will it take?”

”Somewhere around eight hours, if we’re lucky,” Wilbur answers, his voice steady in a way that keeps Tommy from getting too excited. He can practically see the boy waiting for the downside to all this. “Eret has informed us that Dream intends to attack at seven o’clock tonight. I’m scared, Tommy- I’m scared that if we lose, they’ll manage to find your wings and take them back.” He sighs, thinks on it for a second, then continues. “I know you want to fight with us, Tommy. Would you like to have the surgery done now, so that way you might be ready to fight when the time comes?”

Something in Tommy’s expression looks so scared, like Wilbur is only pulling some cruel joke, and will turn around and laugh at the look on his face any second now. But Wilbur doesn’t do that. He gives Tommy a look of reassurance, a slight smile taking them over. “And- And I should be able to fight with you guys once it’s done?” Tommy asks, and Wilbur nods.

”That’s the other thing. In order to make sure your nerves align as best as possible, we need to kill you before the surgery. The respawn process should make it go more smoothly,” Wilbur explains, and Tommy’s breath catches in his throat. Wilbur picks up on it, and quickly continues. “If you don’t want to do this today, that’s fine. Fundy’s hidden the wings for now, so they shouldn’t be found-“

”Will,” Tommy interrupts, his voice even, his expression less scared than it had been before. It stops Wilbur, and as he meets Tommy’s gaze, he speaks again. “I-I’m fine with it- dying again. I want to have my wings back.” He pauses, eyebrows furrowing with thought, and when he speaks again, his gaze doesn’t lift from the floor. “Can I- Can I choose how I die, this time?”

It’s a strange request, but with how quiet Tommy’s voice is and how nervous he looks, Wilbur gives in. “Of course.”

There’s a moment of visible hesitation, but then, Tommy lifts his head and glances at Tubbo, then to Wilbur. He sucks in a sharp breath, then speaks, his voice quick and rushed. “I want Tubbo to do it.”

The admission causes everyone in the room to freeze, and Wilbur watches Tubbo shoot a nervous look over Will’s shoulder, towards Fundy. Wilbur doesn’t turn his head to look, but he sees Tubbo turn his head to look at Tommy, startled and nervous. It’s a strong question, and as much as Wilbur doesn’t want to turn Tommy down, he doesn’t want to force Tubbo to do something like that either. 

“Tommy-“

”Please,” He whispers, and he lifts his head slightly, giving Wilbur a look before turning his head to Tubbo. His stomach is churning, and he doesn’t like the fear Tubbo has in his eyes, but he presses onwards. “Tubbo, I trust you with this, yeah? I... I want you to be the one to do it. I trust you.”

Theres a silence between them, long and heavy, and eventually Tommy sighs with defeat. It’s as he hangs his had that Tubbo speaks up, quietly.

”Alright, Tommy.”

His head whips around to face Tubbo, and although the kid doesn’t look any less nervous, he’s offering Tommy a shaky smile. Tommy blinks once or twice, then mirrors Tubbo’s expression, a deep sincerity to the adoring smile he gives him in return. Tubbo goes rigid for just a moment, then leans forwards quickly, pulling Tommy into a tight hug. It brings a startled laugh from Tommy, but he returns it, squeezing his friend just as tightly, if not tighter. 

_When the war is over,_ Wilbur thinks, _he doesn’t want anything hurting these boys ever again._

After Tommy and Tubbo eventually pull apart, everyone steps back from the bed, letting Tommy lay flat on it. Phil and Fundy go gather the resources they need to begin the surgery, while Wilbur keeps a careful eye on Tubbo. The boy’s back is straight, but he can see the way his hand shakes at his side. Fundy steps close, handing Tommy a purplish potion- one that he hesitantly drinks, beginning to cough and hack horribly after he does. Still, he takes it, keeping still on the bed. 

“You’ll stay with me, yeah?” Tommy asks Tubbo as the boy steps closer, a half smile on his face as he looks up at him. Tubbo bites his lip and nods, one of his hands taking Tommy’s. The other finds his sword. 

Fundy is glancing between Tubbo and Wilbur nervously, his expression horribly worried. Wilbur isn’t exactly sure how to respond, other than with the immense pain he feels regarding the entirety of the situation. Well- pain and something else, something warmer, kinder. As Tubbo takes a shaky breath, steadying himself as he raises his sword, Wilbur realizes what this emotion is. 

It’s hope.

Wilbur’s eyes shut as the sword comes down, the noise that results deafening in the quiet of the room. He hears Tommy cough wetly, taking one more breath before he falls limp on the bed. There’s a sickeningly wet sound as Tubbo pulls his sword from Tommy’s chest, and his still shaking hands drop the weapon to the floor. He’s breathing heavily, tears built up in his eyes, but he squeezes Tommy’s hand and doesn’t let go. 

Wilbur was considering having Tubbo leave the room for Tommy’s surgery, but as he sees the look in the boy’s eye, he lets him be, guiding him towards a chair instead. Phil and Fundy make quick work of flipping Tommy over in the bed, his blood staining the sheets as they set him down, and begin working on his wings. 

Wilbur takes a seat next to Tubbo, watching the kid closely, trying to make sure the boy doesn’t break down. His lip is trembling and his eyes are watery, his gaze directed towards the pristine white tile. Wilbur lets his arm and wing drape over Tubbo’s shoulder, pulling the boy closer and rubbing his back as tears slowly begin to drip down Tubbo’s chin. The boy is shaking underneath him, breathing in sharp gasps and biting back small cries. Wilbur murmurs soft encouragements to him, rubbing his back and letting the boy cry on his shoulder, until eventually Tubbo is just sniffling and coughing. 

Wilbur’s hand finds itself in Tubbo’s hair, gently rubbing his scalp as Tubbo begins to calm, his breathing still uneven as he’s done. He thinks he hears Tubbo say something, so he pulls back, just enough so he can look to Tubbo more directly. Tubbo’s lip is still shaking as he murmurs.

”I-I really don’t want to have to do that again.”

Wilbur pulls him closer, chest tight as he keeps his hold on him.

”You won’t have to. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TommyInnit was slain by Tubbo_.


	13. Chapter 13

The surgery is done after several hours of work. 

It’s long enough that Tubbo has fallen asleep against Wilbur’s shoulder, and Wilbur has done nearly the same. He’s slumped over in his chair, his hat tipped down to cover his eyes as he gets a little bit of rest. He’s woken up by a hand on his shoulder, and when he blinks his eyes awake, he meets Phil’s soft smile. Wilbur offers him one back, adjusting his hold on Tubbo so that he can turn to look at Tommy. 

There’s braces holding his wings up and in place, a regeneration potion hooked up through an IV to make the process go faster. A faint glow surrounds the base of his wings, the dust landing and piecing Tommy back together. Wilbur watches it for a moment, the glowing particles floating idly until they find their place, settling like snow and morphing into muscle and tendon. 

As much as Wilbur would love to stay and keep an eye on Tommy, the growing tension in his system reminds him of what he needs to prepare for. It's late afternoon, and there's still preparations to be made. Wilbur shifts, gently shaking Tubbo awake, who greets him with a small, tired noise. He blinks awake, first looking to Wilbur, then to Tommy on the bed. He stares there for a moment, not looking away even as Wilbur speaks.

"Tubbo, if Tommy isn't done respawning by the time the fighting starts, I want you to stay here and protect him." Wilbur instructs, and even though Tubbo isn't looking at him, he can see the concerned way his eyebrows furrow. There's an unease in Wilbur's chest as he continues. "And, if we do lose, and they come for you two, I-I want you to surrender. Make a good life for yourselves." 

Wilbur doesn't miss the way Fundy and Phil's eyes shift towards him, that same tension bleeding through each of them. He doesn't miss the way Tubbo's shoulders tense up, his breath hitching in a quiet gasp. His expression softens as he looks to the boy, an aching sensation in his chest. "Can you do that for me?" He asks, his voice quieter, his tone full of care and love.

Tubbo's eyes find their way to the floor, and he swallows, nodding ever so slightly. 

"I can do that, Wilbur."

Wilbur nods, pulling Tubbo close by his shoulder, offering the boy a small squeeze before standing from his chair. His eyes shift to Phil and Fundy, his back straightening as he stands tall, wings stretching just slightly. It makes him look more imposing, more confident. Wilbur thinks that's what they need right now. 

"Fundy, go get Techno, and meet Phil and I at the storage area. Bring some potions, if you can. Techno should be in the furthest room, guarding Eret." Wilbur instructs, and though he notices the way Fundy's eyes flash with _something,_ he knows Fundy. He can trust Fundy with this. The man gives a nod in response to Wilbur's instructions, leaving the room. Wilbur looks to Phil, then to Tubbo. "Stay by his side, alright?"

Tubbo gives him another nod, and Wilbur ruffles his hair, looking to Philza before leaving the room as well. The two of them walk outside, heading towards their storage area. It's a sunny day, a decent breeze blowing through, making it comfortably warm. It should be relaxing, but as they reach the storage area in silence, donning their armor and gathering their weapons, it's anything but that. 

Fundy and Techno make their approach, Techno already fully amored from having guarded Eret. They make their way closer, and just as Wilbur is about to greet them and begin discussing battle plans, he hears something. His head whips over in the direction of it's origin, then back towards Techno at the sound of a dull thunk.

An arrow is embedded in his shield, embers still falling towards the ground. Wilbur's breath catches in his throat as he hears the sound of more arrows, sees them coming at them from every side.

They're attacking earlier than anticipated.

"Fundy!" Wilbur yells, the man in question's eyes wide as his head whips around, attempting to dodge arrows that could come his way. Fundy turns his head to look at Wilbur, and Wilbur runs forwards and grabs him, pulling him towards the storage area. "Get your armor on, and hold your own." He instructs, then turns to look at Techno and Phil, having to duck as an arrow is sent his way. "Philza, Techno! They're attacking from the walls. Fly up to get them, try not to get hit!"

Phil gives Wilbur a quick nod, wings expanding and beating, Techno's doing the same. They get a brief running start before their wings beat, kicking up a slight breeze as they're lifted off the ground, flying up to the walls. Wilbur keeps an eye on them, his head whipping back and forth between Techno and Phil, each of them dodging arrows. They get closer to their targets- Wilbur can see them a bit clearer now, men armed in netherite stationed on either wall. 

There's a faint, almost popping sound, followed by a flash of purple particles. It's the only warning Wilbur gets before he has to raise his shield, a netherite axe slashing at him. The force of it pushes Wilbur slightly, but he digs his heels into the ground, pushing back as Dream retrieves his axe from where it's embedded in his shield. As Dream brings the weapon back, preparing for another swing, Wilbur lunges forwards, slashing at his chest with his sword. 

Fundy's finally got his armor on, his sword in hand as he rushes to help Wilbur. As he does, Wilbur hears more of that popping sound, and sees George, Sapnap, and Punz on L'manburgh soil, aiming their bows back up to where Phil and Techno are. One catches Phil's shoulder while the other shots miss their targets. Still, it catches their attention, and they turn, aiming now to dive bomb their targets. It's distracted him enough that Dream's axe comes down again, colliding with his side in a way that makes him winded, a sharp ache blossoming from his side.

He turns, face to face with Dream's cracked mask, the man winding up for yet another swing.

Techno flies towards Sapnap with an incredible speed, his sword managing to collide with Sapnap's arm just before he can raise his shield. Even still, the man is grinning up at him, his eyes wild as he uses the shield to push Techno back. He switches the crossbow for a sword, and goes for a weak swing against Techno's shoulder. It's one that he easily endures in favor of hitting Sapnap's side with much more force, knocking him back a step. 

Sapnap is laughing when he charges forwards again, and Techno instinctively goes to block, not expecting it when he instead turns to face Techno's back. He slashes against his leg, creating a sharp cut that forces Techno to grit his teeth, wings beating as he quickly turns and catches him in the side again. It's a heavy impact, one that causes Sapnap to stumble again, his shield raising before Techno can get another hit in. 

Techno's leg aches, but the adrenaline pushes him forward, his sword coming back and swinging again. Sapnap takes another step back, the tip of Techno's sword leaving nothing but a thin cut along his cheek, blood beginning to drip down the side of his face. The fact that Sapnap is still smiling makes Techno's stomach uneasy, and he quickly lunges forward, his sword avoiding Sapnap's shield and instead catching his shoulder.

Techno is definitely fairing better; Sapnap's standing on shaky legs, shield raised and a grin on his face as Techno goes to get in what's sure to be the final strike, only for his actions to be halted by Phil's yell. He pauses, jumping back at the sound, turning to face where Phil's been fighting. 

The man is bleeding from one wing, his arm cut and heavy as it holds up his shield, blocking a series of hits from both Punz and George. Both of them are injured, sure, but not nearly to the extent that Phil is. Phil's glancing between the two of them, then to Techno. Techno's breath catches in his throat, and at the sound of footsteps, he turns and sees that Sapnap's run off, heading away from him.

_Right._

Techno beats his wings once or twice as he runs, quickly making his way to Phil's side, sword drawn and ready. 

Fundy watches the fight, keeps an eye out on the battlefield while he helps fend off Dream. The man must have taken a strength potion before he attacked; his hits are hitting harder than is warranted by the force behind them, and Wilbur and him aren't fairing all that better. Still, as Fundy hears Philza yell, watches as Techno makes his way to the man's side, he turns his head back to where Techno had been fighting Sapnap. He just barely manages to catch a glimpse of netherite armor moving into the medical tent.

An axe collides with Fundy's chest, bringing him back to the moment. He groans, hand shaking slightly as he reaches to his side and pulls out a potion, passing one off to Wilbur. The man raises his shield and looks at Fundy- he's bleeding from a cut along his forehead, blood dripping down his furrowed brows. "Sapnap went into the medical building," Fundy says, his voice quiet and frantic, so that Dream can't pick up on it. 

Wilbur's eyes widen with a bit of panic, his body being forced back again from the force of Dream's axe against his shield. He looks back towards Dream, pushing the shield forwards again, his eyes glancing back to Fundy as he gives him a nod. 

Tubbo can hear the cries of combat from outside. Fear churns in his stomach, his grip on his sword tight as he glances back between Tommy and the door, fully armored. Tommy still isn't done respawning, luminescent particles still collecting around the base of his wings, moving all too slowly for Tubbo's liking. They form skin, now, settling, and Tubbo hopes with a wild desperation that his friend wakes up soon. 

His head whips back to the door as he hears someone rush inside, footsteps echoing on the tile. His breath catches in his throat, and he hears someone test the door handle, his legs almost shaking. The door rattles then, a loud thud resulting from the impact, and Tubbo bites back a yelp in response. The door slams once, twice more, before whoever was on the end moves on, opening the door next to this room. 

Tubbo's breathing is heavy, and he chances a glance back at Tommy, before sucking in a breath and opening the door, shutting it behind him as he rushes into the next room. He opens it harshly, frozen in the doorway as he watches Sapnap quickly gulp down one of their remaining potions, setting the empty bottle down next to two others. He turns once he's done, eyes widening as he meets Tubbo's gaze, his mouth slightly agape. 

Tubbo's brows furrow, a determined look to his eye, hoping that it masks the way his legs are shaking. Sapnap stares at him for a moment, the healing magic of the regeneration potions quickly stitching up the multiple wounds Tubbo can see on him. He looks back up to meet Sapnap's gaze, a violent chill running through him as he sees the maniacal grin on the man's face, a giggly sort of laugh bubbling up out of his throat. 

Sapnap lunges forwards quickly, forcing a yelp from Tubbo as he tries to raise his sword to deflect the blow, only partially blocking the hit. Sapnap swings at him with a reckless abandon, continuously stepping forward and backing Tubbo out into the hallway, the boy's legs stumbling as he tries to avoid each of the man's strikes.

"Tubbo!"

Tubbo turns his head briefly at the yell, eyes catching Fundy for just a moment before he feels Sapnap's sword stab through his side, a scream of pain leaving him. Sapnap only laughs louder, and Tubbo can see Fundy stare, shocked. Blocking another hit from Sapnap, he yells, "Tommy's still in the room! I'm not sure if he's done respawning-" 

Sapnap's sword collides with his own, pushing close to Tubbo's shoulder. There's a near feral glint in Sapnap's eye as he stares at Tubbo, and Tubbo averts his eyes, watching Fundy quickly rush into Tommy's room. He looks away as Sapnap shoves him against a wall, his head hitting so hard his vision blurs. 

When he's done blinking the stars out of his vision, he sees Sapnap running towards Tommy's room, sword drawn and ready as he goes. Tubbo's breath catches, and he runs forward, hand grabbing Sapnap by the back of his armor as the man tries to open the door. He pulls him back and turns, placing himself between Sapnap and the door before swinging, hitting against Sapnap's chest.

There's no pause to his strikes, his sword hitting against the man's side, his shoulders, and his chest. He steps forwards, and Sapnap has to block his blows, finding little to no opportunity to shake Tubbo. He's close to the wall when Tubbo takes a half step back and kicks him, stumbling back and landing near the wall. He looks up, a furious look on his face that quickly changes to a harsh gasp as Tubbo's sword stabs through his side, pinning him to the wall. 

Tubbo breathes heavily, staring down at Sapnap as he pants, the man looking up at him just the same. The fury on his face morphs into a pained smile, one that causes Tubbo's brows to furrow as he removes the sword. Sapnap makes no move to get up, no move to retaliate as he steps back. Tubbo stares at him for only a second or two longer before he walks over to the door to Tommy's room, opening it and stepping inside.

There's no glow around Tommy's wings when Tubbo walks back in. Fundy's checking his vitals, fingers pressed to Tommy's pulse, waiting. It takes a second, but Tubbo sees the wings twitch, and Tommy's back begin to rise and fall. He's stunned, watching with a swell of emotion as Tommy lets out a groan, beginning to sit up in the bed. He hisses in pain, reaching back and grabbing the base of his wings, feeling the freshly healed over area. 

"Tommy?"

He looks towards Tubbo as the boy says his name, the shocked look on his face slowly morphing into an elated smile. Tommy gives him a small grin, his wings moving and stretching, the ache in his shoulders increasing as he does. It hurts a bit, but it's healed, and Tommy can still feel and move them. Just before Tommy can be happy, he hears a bit of broken laughter echoing outside the room. It's Sapnap's, he realizes, and before he can even begin to process what's happening, he smells it. 

Smoke.

It's beginning to flood into the room, and Tommy quickly pushes himself out of the bed, rushing towards the door. The handle is hot when he touches it, but not enough to be unbearable. As he opens the door, there's a flash of burning heat as the fire begins to fill the room. It singes Tommy's coat and burns his eyes, and he recoils from it. There's yelling from outside, the crackling roar of fire surrounding them. Sapnap's body is sat on the floor, blood pooling around him as a faint white glow begins to surround his body. A flint and steel rests idly in his hand.  
  
"Tommy-!" Tubbo shouts again, and Tommy turns his head to face him. "We need to- We need to get Eret. He's still in the building."

"But what about Wilbur!" Tommy yells right back, his heart pounding rapidly against his chest in a way that is almost painful. Tubbo gives him a look, one that's almost furious if not for how pained it looks. It forces Tommy to suck in a breath, coughing as the smoke enters his lungs. 

"You don't have any armor, Tommy." Tubbo reprimands, his expression pulled in a deep scowl. He turns his head quickly as Fundy places a hand on his shoulder, handing the two of them a large amount of regeneration potions. 

"You two- go, help Wilbur." Fundy instructs, and as Tubbo takes the potions, he reaches to his side and pulls out a sword, handing it over to Tommy. Tommy takes it, and Tubbo doesn't have time to protest before Fundy's other hand rests on Tommy's shoulder, pushing them both towards the entrance. "I-I'll go get Eret, you two need to go. _Now."_

Tubbo goes to protest, but Tommy's pulling him by his shoulder now, rushing out from the building as it burns away from the inside. He inhales sharply, the dry heat and smoke making him cough again, tears swelling in his eyes as Tommy pulls him out of the building.   
  
Wilbur sucks in a breath as he tosses the empty potion bottle to the ground, the regeneration working into his system. Dream and him both have their fair share of cuts, their armor dinged in more places than Wilbur can even count. His shoulder is bleeding again, the wound Dream had left during their previous fight having opened again. Still, Wilbur ignores it as he swings his sword forward's again, ignoring the pain he feels when Dream's axe collides with his side. There's a distinctive crack, and Wilbur doesn't know who it came from, but as he looks up to meet Dream's gaze, he comes to a conclusion.

The crack in Dream's mask has fully split, porcelain embedded into the bridge of his nose, which bleeds from the cut that Wilbur had left. His mask has fallen, cracked more or less down the middle. Blood streaks down his features, brows furrowed and teeth grit in a scowl- an expression that Wilbur can finally see.

His satisfaction is short lived as he hears George yell, followed by the sound of another enderpearl as his arms are pulled. He goes to struggle, only for his wing and leg to be slashed at in one cut, a yell of pain escaping him as the injury brings him to his knee. There's a halt in the battle then, Dream panting and bloodied, with Wilbur restrained at his knees. He can hear Phil yelling from where he and Techno had been fighting off Punz and George; the man is badly injured, with Techno standing defensively between him and Punz, waiting for someone to make a move.

The laugh Dream lets out is loud and cruel, echoing through the uneasy silence of the battlefield. 

"Let this be a lesson to you!" He shouts, voice loud as he reaches down, his hand threading through Wilbur's hair. It tightens, tugging up sharply, causing Wilbur's breath to hitch. He can feel his wings being tugged back, and with a cold wave of fear, he tries to struggle- only for George's heel to find the open cut in his leg, Wilbur breathing out a noise of pain. Wilbur's eyes open, squinting up at Dream as the man tugs harder, forcing the eye contact. There's a smug grin on his face as he raises his axe, and Wilbur squints his eyes shut, his body running cold. 

The axe never comes down.

Instead, there's a sharp gasp, and when Wilbur opens his eyes again, he sees Dream, stilled. A hand grabs the man's shoulder and spins him, allowing Wilbur to see the crossbow bolt embedded deeply between his shoulder blades. Then, another sound, another stuttering gasp as a sword stabs through Dream's chest. Wilbur can see the slight shake to his legs from the pain, the heavy amount of blood beginning to seep from the fresh wounds. But, most importantly, he sees red wings spread wide, and Tommy standing tall. 

"Independence or death." Tommy says, the words harsh. Dream coughs, his teeth still clenched. When he opens his mouth to speak, Tommy twists the sword, and Dream lets out a small scream of pain. It echoes, and Tommy doesn't relent, pulling the sword up and intensifying the wound. George's voice is the one that cuts through the screams.

"Fine."

Wilbur's wings are released, the pressure briefly increasing on his leg before he's entirely let go. Wilbur lets himself curl forwards, panting, as George steps around him and closer to Dream. The noises Dream's making are protesting, but he can't rightly make the words. They mean nothing right now, not when he's mere seconds from bleeding out in the heart of L'manburgh. "You can have your independence. I'll come back tomorrow to sign a treaty," George says, his voice defeated, even. He looks back to where Dream is, still stabbed on Tommy's sword. "We've _lost."_

Dream grits his teeth, looking absolutely furious with George, but a white glow has already started to surround him. George stares at him, and Tommy glances between them before pulling the sword from Dream’s chest. The man falls forward, blood pooling from his injuries as he bleeds out in the grass. 

George turns to Tommy, then to Wilbur, who’s slowly pushed himself up to his feet. Wilbur’s limping on one leg, still bleeding heavily from it, and as George turns to face Tommy, there’s a bit of remorse in his face. It’s strange, foreign, and Tommy is given no time to question it before George is speaking again. 

“Congratulations, L’manburgh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sapnap went up in flames whilst fighting Tubbo_.
> 
> Dream was slain by TommyInnit.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

George returns the very next day, unarmored and true to his word. 

He is brought to the hto dog van by Techno and Tubbo, who both wear their armor and hold their weapons with caution. Victory has not been declared just yet, and Tubbo and Techno keep their cautions as they escort George into the hto dog van. 

They meet up with Wilbur, Tommy, and Philza, with Wilbur and Phil sporting their fair share of bandages. They stand around the table, with Wilbur at one end and George at the other, with everyone else surrounding him. A book and quill is brought out, and Wilbur writes the terms of the Dream SMP’s surrender. George gives it nothing more than a quick glance before signing his name, passing it off so that Wilbur can do the same. 

Wilbur reviews it once more, checks to see that George hasn’t altered it in any way, making sure George’s signature is legitimate. George’s gaze does not leave Wilbur, even with the rest of L’manburgh staring at him. His expression is even aside from the slight furrow to his brows, not giving much of anything away. 

Wilbur gives it one last look over, the disbelief still working through him, like he’s sure the others are going to come back and attack them while they’re low. While the beds of the medical tent have gone up in flames, their respawn points destroyed. 

Nobody knows what happens if you die with your respawn point destroyed. Wilbur doesn’t want to find out. 

He doesn’t get to. With their treaty signed, Wilbur stands, giving George a firm handshake, his wings large and his back straight as he does. George complies, then, wordlessly, is escorted back to L’manburgh gates. That day, there’s a break, a wonderful celebration of their independence, a declaration there of drafted and signed during their party. 

Dream doesn’t come back, not the next day, or even the day after that. He isn’t seen anywhere even near L’manburgh.

The medical tent had burned up in the fire, nothing but ruined tile and cracked potion stands left inside. It’s left untouched, a ruin and a historical site, one that creates chills for anyone in L’manburgh. Truthfully, nobody wants to go near the damn thing- neither to tear it down or reconstruct it. 

Instead, houses are built. Large, comfortable houses are made, and Tubbo receives help in their construction from both Philza and Tommy. Eret had offered to help, but Wilbur had declined, telling the man he couldn’t be trusted quite just yet. There’s no bite to his words though, and he relaxes a bit as he sees the small smile cross Eret’s face. Besides, the burns on his arms and legs still have to heal, and he and Fundy still have some bonding to do. 

Techno creates a large farm for everyone, establishing an incredible food supply that really nobody even asked for. It doesn’t go unappreciated, though, and he’s thanked with fond smiles and tight hugs for his support. Tommy complains about it for days, but it’s always in good nature, and results with Techno softly punching him in the arm. 

Tommy’s wings are attached and functional, but they find out quickly enough that he still needs to get used to them again. They feel heavy now, and sometimes he feels pains at the base of them. It’s Phil who teaches him how to fly again, Tommy shouting out panicked curses as he fumbles in the air, Phil watching him and guiding him with a fond smile. It's nostalgic, in a way, and Phil nearly starts crying when he sees Tommy begin to get the hang of it. Wilbur and Techno watch from the ground, shouting out equal parts encouragement and brotherly jibes. Tubbo sits with them, a few feet away, wordless as he watches Tommy go. 

Tommy seems to get the hang of it for a moment, holding himself steady as he grins with what is possibly the widest smile he's ever had. He looks down to the ground, cheering, watching as Wilbur cheers right back and Techno gives him a thumbs up. The second his eyes land on Tubbo though, he grins even wider, attempting to lower himself towards him. It doesn't go as smoothly as he planned, but Tubbo doesn't seem to mind, laughing as Tommy slams into him hard enough to send them both tumbling back into the grass.

Phil and Techno stay long enough for L'manburgh to gain its foundations, becoming a beautiful place with flowers, tall red wood trees, and lovely homes. They have a guest home there, and leave with tight hugs and promises to return if ever they're needed. Tommy and Wilbur are both pulled into a hug from Phil, wings wrapping around both of them as he holds them tight.

"You know, I'm not really a _hugging_ person." Techno says, his arms crossed and an amused smile on his lips as he watches them.

Wilbur rolls his eyes and brings him in anyways, his words a mix between a scoff and a laugh when he says, "Fuck you."

Neither one of them really wants to pull away. 

When Eret is fully healed and when peace has finally become comfortable in L'manburgh, he works on constructing larger walls. It was something Wilbur had requested in their terms of surrender, and considering another war doesn't start because of it, it seems that the Dream SMP doesn't mind the expansion. They expand towards the ocean, and Tubbo works on building docks. They gain two new members- Jack Manifold and Niki. The two of them are fine additions, and Niki quickly takes up Techno's place as the food supplier, creating a bakery just near the docks.

Tommy works to make himself a small vacation home, up on a ledge overlooking the ocean. Tubbo helps, and while the home isn't one of the bigger ones in L'manburgh- hell, it's nowhere close -there's enough room for him and Tubbo, and that's all Tommy really needs. At least until he ends up finding a fondness for some cows. Then they attach a fenced in area just off the side, and Tommy names each of them. It's funny, Tubbo thinks, watching him talk about how he doesn't have an attachment to them, only to look them in their big old eyes and fall apart on the spot.

He chooses not to comment on it. It's much nicer to watch Tommy relax and have fun without becoming self conscious.

It's a great place to stay when L'manburgh quiets down; when Tommy wakes up in a cold sweat with fiery pains in his back, and a nausea that he can't quite shake until he leaves his home in the embassy and makes his way towards the vacation home. He'll sometimes meet Tubbo there, the boy looking similarly tired, greeting him with a relieved smile. There's some nights where Tommy wakes with a scream in his throat, and some nights where Tubbo wakes up breathless and with tears in his eyes.

They always manage to find each other, though. Whether they end up going back to sleep, a tangled mess of limbs that barely fits in the bed, or staying up together and powering through the night. They stay together.

It's roughly three or so months after they've gained their independence that Tubbo brings Tommy to the embassy, sitting him down on that same wooden bench they've always sat in. He pulls a disc out from his pack and sets it in the jukebox, watching the sun set over the hills as Mellohi begins to play. It's long enough that neither one of them is wearing armor, and as they get comfortable, watching the sunset and the moon rise, Tommy leans against Tubbo and wraps his wing around him.

Things are quiet in L'manburgh, and their independence is beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for coming along for the ride. I hope I've ended this in a way that you guys find satisfactory. The support I've gained from this fic has been astronomical, and really, I appreciate you all so much. Reading your comments honestly makes my day, and I'm so happy to see your responses to the updates. 
> 
> Once again, thank you to the amazing koji_the_dino on instagram for the wonderful art that inspired this fic. I used their Avian AU, so if you would like to see some fantastic art of winged sleepy boys, I'd highly recommend checking them out and giving them a follow.
> 
> And again, thank you all so, so much. I hope you've had as much fun with this as I've had.


End file.
